Wings of Faith
by Shenko007
Summary: The Apocalypse is just around the corner and Dean is near the breaking point. A prophecy foretelling the presence of legendary warriors will come to pass and as the End draws nearer, Castiel realizes that his love for Dean may not quite be so unrequited.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I, alas, do not own the awesome series of supernatural.**

**A/N: This is a fic featuring Dean and his blue-eyed angel, Castiel. Not too good on summary, so I'll let you discover the mystery that is _Supernatural_. Reviews are more than welcome. A happy author = lots of reviews; A prolific author = happy author + well-placed constructive criticism. **

Wings of Faith

He could hear screams, pained and terrified. Voices all mingled together in a chorus symphony that cried out in despair, of loss, and remorse. Images of people being strung out on the rack, their insides glistening and open to him. Each soul would beg for mercy, but he continued to pierce his victim with a hot pot sticker or anything that would induce pain. Each victim he tortured, he felt a part of him break. For a timeless eternity, he tortured anyone on the rack to prevent himself being in their place. He _stopped_, however, when a familiar person appeared before him; his black hair tousled in a messy way and bright blue eyes that looked straight at him, as if into his soul.

"_Dean,"_

Dean startled awake, gasping for air as if he was suffocating. A hand lightly touched his shoulder and his body flinched, although he knew what that hand belonged to, or rather who it belonged to.

"Dean? Is everything all right?" The deep voice murmured quietly and the hand slipped from his shoulder. Surprisingly Dean already missed the warmth the hand emanated.

"Yeah...just..." The elder winchester got up shakily from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

His hands trembled slightly and he hurriedly washed his face, feeling the cold water ran off his face. He looked up in the mirror but instead of seeing his own reflection, he saw images of his nightmare in hell. The description of hell as the seven pits with fire and tortured souls as its main denizens were quite the understatement for him.

"Your dreams of Hell serve not as a punishment but a reminder of what could happen on earth, for everyone, not just you," Castiel stated as to comfort the man who was prophesied to stop the Apocalypse.

"Well, jeez Cas, if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it," Dean snapped, much to his chagrin, especially upon seeing Cas' eyes widen briefly then harden.

"Cas, I'm sorry... it's just..." Dean stopped, not wanting to bring in another chick flick moment. He turned to the angel behind him and just smiled, letting his actions speak. It seemed to be enough to mollify the angel, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Anyways, what's up?"

"As of now, I have had no luck in finding my Father," Castiel started and his eyes lowered in disappointment.

Dean could almost see the frustration and the despair come off Cas' body in waves and he found himself unable to say anything, let alone sorry for Cas' discovery. There was an uncomfortable silence followed by stolen glances as each one dared enough to look at the opposite person but was not bold enough to say anything.

Sam spared them a lengthy period of awkwardness by barging into Dean's room, sweaty and panting as if he had ran a mile or two.

"Dean! Cas! Bobby needs us!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I know, I know. They're not mine, except in my wildest fantasies. Please, no copyright infringement intended.

A/N: I started watching Supernatural again and the mood struck me, so this chappie is the result! Kinda short, but I liked how it ended. Key: _Italics_ are thoughts.

**2: Deals and Prophecies**

Bobby couldn't believe what he was reading when his eyes perused through the ancient texts of the Babylonian era, written before the city's demise.

_And so the stars in the evening twilight_

_ will herald the coming of He_

_ destined to bring an end to all things_

_ or to renew the fruits of the earth_

_ Born from the Warrior of the Innocent and the_

_ Warrior of Injustice,_

_ he shall wield the Heavenly sword_

_ and create a path for all to follow_

_ in darkness and in light._

_ The Warriors shall be charged with protection_

_ of they who are blessed and cursed;_

_ He will be charged with destruction and renewal_

_ of the Ones who are apostates _

_ With the coming of Dawn,_

_ all strive for nothingness and for life_

_ but none shall exist until He does._

_Shit, all this mumble and jumble. Why can't these damn priests write more clearly? _Bobby groused to himself, trying very hard not to tear the pages with his greasy hands. He grabbed his coffee at this right instead and took a long gulp from it. The bitterness of the liquid satisfied his dry throat and the caffeine helped him focus somewhat better.

_Okay, let's this try again_.

He was just about finished with the texts when heavy footsteps approached his office and his left hand reached under to find a shotgun that laid across his thighs. The experienced hunter knew that his house was safe thanks to the sigils he and the Winchester boys drew along the house exterior. Heck, they even drew it all over the roof and chimney. When dealing with demons and even angels, however, one could never be too careful.

He let out a sigh of relief when it really was the Winchester boys with Cas tagging along behind Dean. The angel's eyes were rather downcast and lacked their usual luster. _Damn, what did Dean do to that boy now?_

"Bobby!"

"Now jist hold yer horses! Damn, you boys sounded like the Four Horseman coming down on muh head,"

"You know, if they weren't here, that would be funny," Dean made smart comment before being elbowed in the side by his younger brother.

"Dean, this is serious. Bobby?"

The old hunter regarded the pair of men who were the sons of the infamous John Winchester, one of his dearest friends who sacrificed everything for his boys. Castiel stood slightly behind Dean, his azure eyes taking in his look with stride and not at all intimidated by the old hunter.

"I've been lookin' through these books and found somethin' that could help us out."

"And?"

"Just listen. Yer so damn impatient."

Bobby recited what he had just read to the trio intently listening to him and the old hunter was bombarded with questions upon finishing it.

"Born? What all we have to do is find these two and have them shag each other? Wow, I wish it was that simple." Dean's comment was caustic, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Perhaps, it is that simple, Dean," Castiel put his piece in, stepping forward to take a closer look at the spidering writings of the Babylonian text. His eyes widened in astonishment when they saw the figure standing proudly on top of a mountain, his spear penetrating the serpent.

"That is not Michael!"

"Who this? Yeah. But I thought you'd seen this before,"

"Not like this. This figure resembles the Archangel Michael, but it is not him."

"Huh? Whaddya mean?"

"Michael's eyes are brown, not blue. And he had short hair, not shoulder-length."

"Well, it could be his vessel's," Sam pitched in, also staring at the picture.

"No. All the vessels he's been in were intimate copies of his real person. This figure is _not_ Michael."

All eyes were riveted to the noble figure perched high on the apex of the mountain, with the sun bearing on his left and the moon on the right. Sam noticed that the robes the man was wearing were akin to what the Greek wore and he found the blue eyes a little startling, as if they were watching him looking at the figure. When he moved his gaze away, he could have sworn that the eyes followed him.

"Sam!" A rough thump on the shoulder brought his attention back to his older brother who gave him a concerned look as always, with a predictable question following it. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam had to look at the pair of eyes again and they were still, unmoving even when his did. _Must be my imagination_. "Yeah. Sure."

Dean, of course, didn't believe him and his mouth tightened. Bobby cleared his throat to break the tension between the two brothers.

"So, this man here is not Michael. If he isn't, then who the hell is he?"

"I don't know," Castiel replied honestly and the angel was a little bit unnerved that he couldn't answer the hunter's question. Angels weren't omniscient but they knew a lot more about the world, both spiritually and physically, than their earthly brethren.

"We still have to find these two Warriors and ask them for help in ending this Apocalypse. Bobby, does it say where we can find them?"

"Nah, just that we need to find them."

"Great," Dean said, putting his hands in the air, his frustration clearly evident in his face and attitude. "Stupid riddles. All they do is make my head hurt."

"Dean," Castiel said, his calm tone immediately having a soothing affect on the elder Winchester, who merely sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Castiel took in the tired expression and he certainly did not like the black bags underneath the green eyes.

"So, we'll just have to keep looking through whatever's available to us and see if we can find anything helpful."

"Pretty much all we can do," Sam said.

It was supposed to rain today, but Mother Nature was a mercurial figure of life and instead of being a 50% chance of precipitation, it was a downright downpour. Strong winds blew across the small suburban area of Chicago, branches broke off and the power lines threatened to uproot themselves. There was a flash of lightning and it struck quite close to a red and white house, with a Mercedes c830 parked out in the front it. A room that was situated to the upper left of the entrance was the only room with a light, but it didn't come from any of the flourescent bulbs that were ubiquitous throughout the whole house. It flickered gently, the rhythm almost matching with that of the thunder. A young girl was sitting in the centre of the pentagram, chanting in ancient Latin, her eyes darting across the writing scrawled haphazardly across the yellowed pages of her book. The candle flickered again and then at the end of her chant, a particularly strong wind forcefully pushed open her window and doused the candle, plunging her room into final darkness. She was slightly scared, but her dreams were more persistent than her fears. A figure was adumbrated in a shadowy mist and the girl perceived it to be a beautiful female, easily at college age with beguiling eyes and well-endowed chest. Eyes glowed in an unholy fire and they stared haughtily at the mortal who dared to summon her from the hellish plane of her existence.

"A 15-year old huh? Really now, this is getting ridiculous."

"Shut up, bitch. I commanded you and I have the power to send you back to hell at my whim." the girl snarled back, her lovely face contorted into a mask of intense hate and malice. The summoner was not a very nice girl at all. The demon herself could sense an aura of red outlining the girl's form and from what she could glean from the girl, the summoner thrived on the sufferings of others, whether it's in the form of cruel jests or blatant disobedience of the laws, both worldly and spiritually.

"Bitch huh? I've been called worse, by people fouler than you, stupid girl."

"I told you to shut up! I want you to do something for me, something even I can't do."

"and just what is that?"

"I want you to kill Dean Winchester."


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings: Seasons 4 spoiler mentions; minor season 5. Alternative after Season 5 episode 3: Free to be me and You.

**3: Say What?**

If demons could truly laugh their hearts out, this one would. The profound request of the little girl was just so ridiculous, so hilarious, the demon almost wanted to thank God for the ironies in life. _Almost_. What stopped her from praising her Father's hateful enemy were three facts: 1. she abhorred Him, 2. her Father abhorred him, and 3. just the mere thought of mentioning him agonized her more than the fiery pits of Hell itself. Instead, she just laughed out loud, her clawed hands clutching her stomach as the command rolled itself over her head. _I want you to kill Dean Winchester_. That was what she was summoned for? To kill Michael's vessel? The poor guy was killing himself and actually saved the easy part for her. Her reaction obviously astounded her summoner and that in of itself made her laugh even more. The ironies of man. She loved that. Once she composed her self, she straightened up, her right hand on her hip, a smirk on her pale face that sharply contrasted with her dark hair that seemed to be moving by itself.

"You're kidding me right?"

The 15 year old stamped her foot in protest and she scowled angrily, clearly not happy with the attitude of her subordinate.

"Wow, for all of my unholy existence, I've never come across this easy of a task before."

"Good. I want him to be dead by today so that way I can be made into a powerful witch by the witching hour."

_Damn bitch._ If the demon wasn't involved in a bloody contract with this girl, she would already be eating her warm heart.

"Oh please. Don't give me the whole 'I summoned you therefore I'm more powerful than you' attitude. Don't forget, _child_, I am a lot older than you and hell of a lot more stronger than your stupid little ritual skills."

"_He _told me to summon you, slut and that you should take orders from me." A cold smile appeared on the deceivingly cherubic face and the demon felt a cold shudder pass through her thin frame. Lucifer Himself told this stupid weakling to summon her? She was second highest, next to Lilith herself. _No_, scratch that, she _is _the new Lilith. Her eyes turned black and she deciphered that the girl was partly telling the truth. The teenager was indeed told by Lucifer to kill Dean Winchester. However, he told every faithful follower of His to do so. So this request wasn't at all special. In fact, with so much competition out there, it actually gives her the opportunity to take out her rivals, most particular Damien, her wretched counterpart who lavished on the attentions of both sexes and wrought havoc in all matters of the heart. Unfortunately, Lucifer somehow thought this girl special and really did tell her to summon her in particular and she would have to obey her. However, he tactfully left out the method of forcing a demon's full obedience without getting the summoner killed. _Oh boy. She was so going to enjoy this_.

"And what is your plan, my _Master_?"

"Get rid of his bodyguard, Castiel then capture his brother. We'll see who's more important to him, his brother or this fallen angel of his."

"Oooh. I like that idea. Pitting the two brothers together. Such a classic story. Instead of a woman separating them, we'll have a man. Now that is a twist."

"Actually, on second thought, just kill both of them. I want Dean to suffer and I want to make him watch them die by my hand."

_Sheesh. This girl has no imagination. And I have to take orders from her?_

"Alright, girly. Just one thing."

"What? Can't you see we're running out of time? I have 23 hours left!"

"It'll only take a few seconds and one drop of your blood."

"A contract? I thought I was excluded from it."

"Let's just say it binds me more to it than you," the demon lied smoothly. "This will guarantee you success of the task at my hand, if you will just sign here."

A long finger pointed at the bottom of a contract that was strangely similar to a computer generated one, rather than hand-written. The girl, like any other stupid dimwit, placed her hand on the contract without reading the fine print and before the girl could double check what she had signed to, the contract disappeared and the demon had a good feeling about all of this. Her Father was going to be so proud of her.

The nightmares came again for Dean. The screams, the blood on his hands. And at the end of his dream, he would see a light shining towards and a figure with wings as black as night reaching out for him. A name was cried out to him but it was almost unheard in the din of souls crying out in endless torment. Then he felt the hand on his shoulder and it burned, seared his body or what remained of it at least. He knew intuitively that his body had deteriorated for the worst in his duration of Hell. Although his body was physically left to rot in the ground, instead of being burnt with salt and fire like it was supposed to have been, his essence was rotting away so to speak. He could feel something _dirty_ just growing underneath his fingernails, in his skin, and if he were to look in the mirror itself, his eyes were almost blackened. Only a sliver of blue could be seen amidst the black iris that had taken up most of the space. This violation of his soul was just unspeakable to him and he was in anguish at the bleakness of his circumstances. Did he just save all those people, do all those awesome things just to land his ass here in the pits of damnation? If he didn't know any better, he would have quit his job as soon as his father passed with Tessa, the reaper who wanted to collect Dean herself. His father's warning that he would either have to save Sam or kill him should have brought the stops right there. Should have quit hunting so he wouldn't have to come across such a crossroad where he would have to decide. Shit, Sam's his brother. He wouldn't have to decide anything. However, there's no way that the lives, the souls of all living beings would be worth less than one soul. Unless, you were Dean, of course.

Upon coming to that revelation, Dean's eyes snapped open and he bolted up in bed, the bedsheet sticking to his sweaty body. His heart beat so fast, he feared it was going to jump out of his chest. His left arm burned like hell and he clutched at it, only to have the mark burn that hand too. Instead of wrenching his hand away, he just held onto it and tears came

Suddenly, a presence made itself known but Dean sensed that it meant no harm, at least not to him. Soft footsteps indicated that the man was of light weight and Dean could tell through the quiet sounds of the man's footsteps that the man did not want to scare Dean and it brought the elder Winchester an odd comfort of sorts. This powerful Angel walking towards him had the power to level whole cities with just one word and yet his feet tread ever so lightly, the action belying his immense power that was just inhuman.

A cool hand touched his forehead and a wave of calm came over Dean. He breathed more easily now and another hand briefly touched the handprint. A flash of lightning appeared before Dean's eyes and he groaned at the connection that flared back to life.

"Dean,"

The name caressed his soul like a soothing balm to his soul and Dean corrected that it was to be this man, this holy being who was too good for him, who would be the reason why he sacrificed so much for. All his actions led up to this one person. Dean knew for certain that if he died now and had a chance to relive his life, he wouldn't change a thing. Except maybe eat more pies along the way.

"Dean?" He called out to him again and Dean opened his eyes to see a concerned face looking down at him. He was astonished to see how clear and blue his friend's eyes were, how they were akin to a winter's morning sky. Realizing how stupid he must look to Castiel, he cleared his throat and looked away, ashamed to show his weakness to the Angel of the Lord.

"Cas, personal space here?" The words came out before Dean could stop them and there was a fear that Cas might say something admonishing to him. Instead, the Angel obediently backed off. The warmth radiating from Cas' body when he was so close to Dean was already missed and the elder Winchester cursed at himself. _Why can't I just say nicer things to him? He's done everything for me and yet…_And yet what? Another voice answered. You're afraid. You're afraid of losing. But what would you be more afraid of, losing Sam or losing Castiel? If you had to choose between the two, who would you choose? Your brother who released Lucifer or this Angel who's been with you this whole time and even attempted to warn you before being dragged back to bible boot camp? He hoped to God that he wouldn't be forced to choose between the two.

"Dean, I know of a possible clue to the location of the Warrior of Innocence."

At this piece of news, Dean's head snapped back to him and Castiel immediately noticed the 'let's get down to business' expression replacing the hurt one he had seen on Dean's face.

"Really? How did you know about it?"

"I may be barred from Heaven, but I am not without resources. In fact, Anna was the one who told me this."

"The chick is helping us out? Even when you wanted to turn her in?"

Castiel grew uncomfortable at the refreshed memory and he could still see her accusing face before she and her captors disappeared into the light. It was a look he had not been on the receiving end for and he didn't know what to make of it. The hurt betrayal in her brown, almost red eyes and the realization of Castiel telling her superiors where she was at dawned in her face, which became impossibly hard for a female. However, she had "escaped" and she wanted to talk to him, in private, with no other Angels or demons hovering over their shoulders. He agreed to her request and had met her in one of the nearby ports of Houston. Even though she was his superior, heck, she was an Archangel, he could still hold his own against her until help came. Dean, in his spare time, had taught him a few dirty tricks on how to handle someone a lot stronger than you.

When they conversed, Castiel's hand would clench tightly around the blade that was used to kill any 'fallen' angels. Anna knew that Castiel was holding a weapon for she stopped in mid-sentence and looked down at where his hand was hidden in the pocket, giving his whole appearance a seemingly nonchalant posture.

_"Is that what I think it is, Cas?" The monicker sounded profane coming from her. Only Dean was allowed to call him that and even when Dean first called him that, Castiel disliked it. However, over time, he grew to like it and the way his eyes would soften whenever the older Winchester would call him._

_ "Yes, and the name is Castiel." Anna visibly trembled at the intonation of his name but she continued on. _

_ "I understand why you did it, Castiel," Anna had said quickly, "and I forgive you for it."_

_ Despite his mission being successful, Castiel experienced some discomfort. He felt that his action was intimately wrong and over the weeks of her absence, he grew to doubt his capability to what was right and what was wrong. Now, hearing her forgive him released him from some of the doubts he had ever since her capture. He definitely knew how Heaven "persuades" their soldiers and not even Hell could compare to the torture._

_ "I know you did it for orders, but I think we both know how well you went with the later ones."_

_ "Anna,"_

_ "Dean needs you, Castiel," she said abruptly and Castiel was quite startled at her bold statement. _

_ "I know you could smell me on him after that night."_

_ "Anna, please."_

_ "I just wanted to say that his heart wasn't in it when we made love. What I also know is that he truly needs someone to be there, now and in the future. Someone who cares for him and loves him as he is. He will need that, Castiel. More than he will let on, even to you."_

_ "Why are you here, Anna? We don't just escape from Heaven's Room. Someone let you out."_

_ "No. I managed to do out it without anyone's help. I am, after all, one of the Archangels."_

_ "Barachiel."_

_ "I like Anna better."_

_ "Anna." His tone seemed final and Anna sensed that Castiel, for once, was impatient and she could tell that the habits and traits of the Winchesters were rubbing off on her baby brother._

_ "The Warrior of the Innocent and the Warrior of the Injustice. One born of the Eastern Star and the other of the Western Star. Of the innocent, he shall rise from the depths of experience and blade. The Injustice from the skies of falling stars and when the Moons fade."_

_ "Eastern Star? Western Star? I've never heard of this script before."_

_ "It was in the Hidden Archives, even in the Library. No one but of the highest authority were allowed to read it."_

_ "Thanks, Anna." Castiel turned to leave but a hand stayed him. He looked back at the willowy figure of Barachiel and she had a very somber expression._

_ "You may want to start at the Temple of Castor and Pollux. Just a hint." _

_Before he could reply, she left in a flutter of wings, flying so quickly that her form may have just disappeared in human eyes._

"The Temple of Castor and Pollux? Those are just ruins now though. It's still holy ground, considering that the Romans were fucking pagans."

Dean's harsh statement of the Romans were unfortunately true but Castiel couldn't help but be puzzled at why Dean had to include the word 'fucking.' It served no true purpose and yet it is the most diverse of the words he knew. Dean demonstrated the various usage of the word and each time, Castiel would have that confused look, as he usually does when experiencing Dean's antics.

"Cas? How are we getting there?"

"I still have some of my powers, although they are slowly waning."

"So, you can just strap on your angel wings and we can go."

"I thought you didn't like to fly. Also, you always looked pained every time I take you somewhere."

Dean sighed and a mirth of laughter managed to escape from those soft lips. Castiel wondered how soft they would feel against his.

"Well, we don't have enough time to just drive there and I really don't want to deal with douchebags in suits, excluding you."

"I-thanks."

Dean rose from the bed and started to pack his duffel bag, filling it with a shotgun, several bags of rock salt, and a handful of stakes, knives, crosses, the works. He straightened his forest green jacket and grabbed his duffelbag. The Angel placed two fingers on his forehead and just as they began to fade into the background, a question could be heard in the room.

"Just one thing, Cas. Did Anna tell you anything else, about me and her?"

"She told me you _banged_ her."

**Plot for next chapter**: Castiel and Dean visit the Temple of Castor and Pollux to find a clue to the whereabouts of the Warriors mentioned in the prophecy. Chuck on the other hand foresees the answers to all of their problems but deliberately withholds information for it would change the future for the worse when revealed. Meanwhile Sam ponders over his past mistakes and someone visits him.

A/N: Eh? Eh? What do you think? Please drop a line. :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **No copyright infringement intended. These boys aren't mine. Not ever.

**Warnings**: minor spoilers of season 4. This fic is AU following the rise of Lucifer and the boys being told that they're vessels.

**A/N: **Feedback is always welcome and will result in quicker updates if I know people are reading it. Enjoy the chapter! :D

_Dean rose from the bed and started to pack his duffel bag, filling it with a shotgun, several bags of rock salt, and a handful of stakes, knives, crosses, the works. He straightened his forest green jacket and grabbed his duffelbag. The Angel placed two fingers on his forehead and just as they began to fade into the background, a question could be heard in the room._

_ "Just one thing, Cas. Did Anna tell you anything else, about me and her?"_

_ "She told me you banged her."_

**CHAPTER 4: The Past Visits and the Future Waits**

When Dean and Castiel arrived at the ruins of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, someone was already waiting for them.

"I've been waiting for you two for a long time," the shadowed figure said and he stepped out from the shadows of the tall column, the moonlight striking the figure and illuminating him to the two visitors. His attire immediately had Dean come in a defensive stance, his figure instinctively standing in front of Castiel, his tall six foot frame over-towering that of his companion's.

"Who are you?"

The figure smiled benevolently at the speaker and he stopped a few feet from Dean. The man destined to save the world, the man who went to Hell and came back thanks to the one standing behind him.

"Hello, Cas."

The Angel was a little bit shocked at being addressed so casually by this stranger and he stepped closer to the man, although he was stopped again by Dean's outstretched arm.

"You should know me, Castiel. I was the one who watched our Father create you and your siblings eons a ago."

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you."

"It appears that your almost fallen state has rendered you incapable of remembering the many things you have seen and learned over the millenia of your existence. Perhaps that is a good thing."

"Hey, don't talk to Cas like that! He can still kick your ass." Dean shouted angrily and he was just about to pull out his angel-killing knife when it disappeared from his hand.

"I did not wait all this time just for the Saviour of Man to gut me before I finish with my introductions." This time the figure seemed slightly flustered and the sound of wings flapped in response to the growing irritation of its owner.

The particular saying of the figure's not wanting to be gutted reminded Castiel of the angel he used to work with for a long time. _Uriel_...he and his brother were quite close to each other. Castiel had always known that Uriel held a grudge against their mortal brethren but the angel had never realized this grudge would take Uriel far enough to want to kill his own people from the 77th Angel garrison and his own partner. No, not want, Castiel corrected himself. Uriel _killed_ his own brethren and attempted to do so with Castiel. The angel was still hurting from that betrayal, despite being saved by Barachiel, who was his own superior in his garrison. When an angel dies, the essence was essentially gone, non existing. Or at least, that's what was taught to God's firstborn. And so, when Castiel watched Uriel die, a piece of him inside broke, just as other pieces of himself broke upon seeing his sisters and brothers lying dead before him, a hole in their sternums. Now, this figure sounded just like Uriel, but that couldn't be him. He was dead.

"I am not Uriel," the figure stated solemnly, his green eyes staring steadily at the pensive angel, who clearly flinched at how he knew what he was thinking.

"Then who in the Hell are you?" Dean asked, his posture slightly hunched over and his body poise, ready to fight if necessary, ready to protect his Angel.

"No one knows my name, unless it is Father Himself. It is imperative that I keep my name safe, from being used in profane ways of man and demon alike. However, Castiel will know my name when the time is right," the stranger turned his gaze from Dean to Castiel, and back to Dean again. The elder Winchester's frustration mounted again. He was tired of getting these cryptic answers to his answers and just wanted some clear answers. How hard was it to get help in a non-cyptic manner.

"Be assured, Dean that I am here to help you, not hinder. However, a weapon often brings one to its defensive, no matter if they have something to hide or not."

"Ok, so let's get on with it," the elder Winchester demanded, his face still having that scowl Castiel was familiar with. "We ain't got all day before Lucifer decides to show up and blows my ass to smithereens."

The unknown Angel grinned at Dean's casual need to swear, especially in front of a holy figure such as him and Castiel. When he was created by Father, his only purpose was to wait at this place, this particular location for the Savior of the world to show himself. He had expected someone with more respect, more sure of himself. This man standing before him was nothing at all what he expected. He could see the anguish within the mortal, the anger at the world, at God and Lucifer, and worst of all, at himself. Hell had indeed changed Dean for the worse, but that knowledge of Hell will undoubtedly help Dean even more at stopping the Apocalypse from finishing. Only Father knows how it ends and the Angel felt that the ending hinged on those two somehow, someway. Castiel's state of falling was predestined as well and he sympathized with the younger angel's confusion at his place in the world.

"This place is very holy; not even a fallen angel like Lucifer can tread around without burning. Which is why I'm surprised that Castiel is able to stand here as we do. No matter, I'm here to tell you one thing, and one thing only. When the Final Day comes, the Warriors will possess the Sword and the Shield. I have the Sword of the Heaven itself and am ordered by Father Himself to give it to you."

At this point, the Angel started to reach for his sword at his side and he offered it to the pair, who could only admire the craftsmanship of the weapon. The blade was only a foot long, but it was double-edged, with ancient runes decorating along the edges. Even though the handle was cut cleanly off the blade, Dean could still recognize a cult tool.

"The Spear of Destiny? The one that killed Jesus?"

"Yes. His Blood is rather potent to anyone who is unholy. So, if I were you, Dean, I wouldn't touch it."

Several years ago, before his trip to Hell, Dean would have scoffed off his warning and touched the blade. Now, though, the man wasn't so sure of himself anymore and he took the Unnamed Angel's warning to heart. The Angel placed the blade inside its scabbard that was seemingly worn and unimportant. The blade was then handed over to Dean's hands and the owner gasped at the heaviness of it.

"Geez, it's heavier than expected," Dean observed. "How am I going to carry this thing till I see this Warrior?"

"The Warriors are the might of Heaven. The Warrior of the Injustice shall fall upon the might of the Warrior of the Innocence, and Hope is reborn."

"Ok, seriously. Enough of these damn riddles. Tell me where we can find them before Lucifer does."

The Unnamed Angel smiled at Dean's forwardness with such a holy being of God. "They will come to you at the appropriate time. All you have to do is find the Shield and wait for them when the Moon reaches her full power."

"Seriously, these damn riddles. They're getting on my damn nerves. Can't you angels just give us a straight answer for once?"

The Angel gave him a confused look, much similar to Castiel's but with less innocence and more annoyance than ever.

"If we were to give you free answers, then free will would be obsolete, Dean Winchester."

Before Dean could answer, both Dean and Castiel found themselves back to their time, their place at Bobby's place. It was as if they never left the place for Bobby came to them, asking Dean if he wanted a beer and some water for Castiel. This same question was asked of them right before they left for the Temple of Castor and Pollux.

* * *

Sam knew that Castiel took his brother somewhere and so he was left with Bobby to search any texts, anything at all that would help them out. He much preferred that both would say no to being vessels for a pair of siblings who were on the opposite sides of this holy War. This strange prophecy that Bobby discovered was quite interesting and Dean's humorous reply on finding these two and letting them shag each other as he said did seem a preposterous way to end all things. The events of the past few days exhausted him mentally and he stood up, stretching out his limbs and he rotated his neck, to let the blood flow more easily to his brain. Then, the younger Winchester decided that he needed a drink and he walked to the kitchen, reaching out for the fridge as he got closer to it.

He looked inside the small appliance and saw a twelve pack of budlight stored on the bottom shelf. Taking one, he opened it and drank heavily. The beer tasted cool on his lips and tongue. The liquid though could never beat the demon blood he was drinking for the past few months. It wasn't as heavy, as filling as the blood was and Sam had to be honest with himself. He missed drinking the demon blood from Ruby. He reveled in the head rush he would always experience and wondered wistfully what would have happened if he drank all of Ruby's blood, maybe even some of Lilith's as her corpse laid on the stone floor of St. Mary's convent.

Shocked to see where his thoughts were going with this, Sam felt nauseous and he lunged for the sink, his contents throwing back up in the stained bowl. The acidic bite of the vomit left Sam an aftertaste and he hacked out some spit, wishing to get rid of that awful taste. No, he can't think like that. He just got over his addiction with the demon blood and he'll be damned if he ever drank that stuff again. The power rush the blood gave him wasn't worth seeing Dean's disappointed expression. His brother was shocked at seeing how powerful his little brother really was and seeing him drink that stuff, especially in the warehouse when Castiel was in Jimmy's daughter, brought a certain disapproving but wholly not unexpected look. It was as if Dean knew what Sam was up to, but the fact didn't hit home until he saw Sammy's face covered in gore and blood.

The younger Winchester took a towel and wiped his mouth off, his face grimacing as the speckles of vomit got stuck on the microfibers of the towel. It was placed lengthwise along the edge and he turned around, facing someone he lost in a fiery blaze several years ago.

"Jess?"

"Hello, Sam."

* * *

The older hunter was rummaging through the books he collected over the years as a hunter. For his profession, it does pay to not having enough books to deal with the beasties of the night. He had the scars to prove it from that one night when he was hunting an unknown entity with John Winchester. The entity was an angry spirit that preyed on the fears of its victims and when he met it, he saw his possessed wife again, her rabid eyes accusing him for her state of being. Bobby didn't know how to kill it and it slashed at him, giving him a deep, 6 inch gash across his chest. John managed to salt and burn the bones of the spirit and Bobby felt like he was witnessing his wife's demise all over again. He screamed and reached out for it only to be held back by John, locked in his friend's embrace. When he asked John how he managed to find the bones of that dark spirit, his friend merely replied by reading an old book that covered the murders of the 1970s in that area and that this spirit was killed by someone who actually preyed on victims weak of the mind.

He perused through hundreds of books in the past four hours but none of them mentioned anything about this weird prophecy. None. He sighed and was just about to give it up, or at least give it a rest when something tumbled from a book shelf and right into his lap. Bobby's heart lurched in a strange excitement and his hands trembled when they reached out for the decaying book. He thought he had lost this years ago and worst of all, he almost discarded it for one reason. He didn't want to open this book again, fearing that he would see blank pages again, not yielding any answers or even hints to his predicaments when he was starting out to hunt.

The hunter opened and a gasp was let out of cracked lips. These pages weren't blank anymore. Words were scribbled hastily across the pages and there were several illustrations, giving any nightmarish figures some form or shape. He rustled through the pages and stopped three-quarters of the way.

There, displayed on the right hand side, was the image of the same Warrior destined to bring the end of the Apocalypse. He bore a shield of gigantic size on his left arm while holding only a footlong blade in his right hand. The figure was attired in the Roman military garb typically worn by a top officer in the infantry during the height of the Roman Empire, under Constantine's rule. His breastplate had the symbol of a lion etched unto the front and the red plume hung gloriously from the helmet, all the way to the bottom of the man's shoulder blades. The gauntlets and greaves protected the vulnerable limbs of the figure depicted so and Bobby noticed that this figure looked remarkably familiar to him. Almost like Dean.

A description was found below the image and it literally told Bobby that this man would bear the Spear and the Shield of the Lord while confronting the Devil. The Spear can be found only through divine intervention while the Shield is found through an act of betrayal. What the hell is that supposed to mean?


	5. Chapter 5

_ A description was found below the image and it literally told Bobby that this man would bear the Spear and the Shield of the Lord while confronting the Devil. The Spear can be found only through divine intervention while the Shield is found through an act of betrayal. What the hell is that supposed to mean?_

**The Spear **

**PART I**

"Hello, Sam,"

Sam inadvertently took a step back only to find himself backed into the sink. He very much felt like a cornered animal but the younger brother quickly controlled his rising fear and faced his long deceased girlfriend.

Jess had always been very beautiful, hell, even sexy. They had dated for approximately two years while he attended Stanford University, studying pre-Law. She and a couple of other friends were in the same boat as he was, studying frantically for the LSAT and trying to land successful interviews. The fact that he was very disturbed at finding his brother sneaking around his apartment was an understatement. He hated his life before college and the presence of his brother would abruptly bring his whole happiness to a standstill. When Dean had said that their dad was missing and they needed to find him, Jess had the impeccable timing of coming in when Sam was asked to go with him. He couldn't let her know the truth of his "family business" and in this case, for her at least, ignorance would be blissfull. Or at least until he came back from solving a haunting case only to see her corpse lying on the ceiling, her face twisted in surprise in death. She was slashed much in the same way his mother was and Sam knew, he _knew_ that this would come to pass. Yet, he didn't think twice about it, just thinking it was just another nightmare of his.

Now, seeing her again, shocked Sam into speechlessness and Jessica gave him a gentle smile, the one that immediately comforted Sam and made him feel safer.

"Jessica? What-how did you?"

"Find you? I've been watching over you, Sam. Castiel's right. You're going down the wrong path and it's going to end badly for you. For you, your brother, and all of your friends."

Sam's throat tightened and his heart beat faster at this not so new revelation. It hurt when Dean himself told him that Castiel was warning him about this. But to hear it from his former girlfriend just hurt him even more. He was trying to help people, he truly was but Ruby, Ruby was his crutch and before he knew it, Lucifer was released from his cage.

"It's ok to cry, Sam," Jess said softly and she came closer to Sam, her dress rustling across the old tile floor that was in serious need of repair.

"Jess...I...I had no idea about this, about Lucifer rising free because of what I've done."

"Lucifer is free because of your choices, Sam, nothing else. The only person to blame in all of this is yourself. However, there is a way to fix this."

"Fix this?"

"Yes, stop the Devil from releasing the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. If he releases them, then you _will_ be his vessel. If they do come into being, there's nothing changing that, no matter how hard you fight it."

A hand caressed his cheek and Sam yearned for her to be alive all over again. He wanted to hold her again, to hug her and kiss her. Now, all he could do was lean into the warm hand that stroked his cheek. He opened his eyes and he jumped at not seeing her. But it was so real.

**PART II**

Dean thought he overheard someone talking in the next room to where he and Castiel were conveniently dropped off by the nameless angel. Making sure Castiel was ok, he walked over towards the kitchen only to find a very pale Sam leaning over the sink, his back all hunched over and his head almost worshipping the porcelain bowl.

"Sam! Sammy!"

Dean rushed to his little brother's side, a hand laying on a quivering shoulder as Dean tried to see what was going on. From the smell that undoubtedly results from a vomit, Dean could obviously see that Sam was puking into the sink. He hated the smell of vomit and the handle of the faucet was turned to the left, the water running through the pipelines and into the bowl. It smelled strongly of severe chlorination, but so long as it got rid of the stench of human vomit Dean could put up with the new smell now. Once satisfied that the sink was cleaned, he turned to this brother, trying to see his face.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright." Sammy protested, his head flinching from his brother's gentle prodding. Dean could easily tell that something had upsetted Sam and he wanted to know who, why, and then how it occurred. When Sam finally settled down and wiped his mouth, he sighed heavily and finally looked to Dean with a sorrowful gaze.

"Dean, I saw..." Sammy gulped and the image of his dead girlfriend made his stomach turn again. He swallowed back the feelings of nausea again and breathed deeply. "I saw Jess."

"What? Jess? The one that burned in your bedroom?"

"Yes. She was killed like our mom was. Thought you knew that."

"Uhh, yeah, yeah I did. But why did she show up?" Dean asked, wondering if this _Jess_ was perhaps a demon or a powerful illusion to start trouble just when they really don't need it. The last thing they need is for Sam to go on a trip by himself and try to sort things out without Dean. Of course, if he did, it wouldn't be the first time for Sam anyways. Dean just didn't want his Sam doing it with a conniving woman who was a demon bitch, in more ways than one.

"It's nothing," Sam said a little bit too quickly and Dean caught up on that tone. His eyebrows knitted together and he crossed his arms across his broad chest, his body taking a stance that clearly told Sam Dean wasn't going to back off until he got some answers.

"She said that we needed to stop Lucifer from releasing the Four Horsemen."

"Well, I kinda figured that. When Lucifer is set loose, he's gonna have his four buddies with him too."

"I know, it's just. I just found out that I'm actually his vessel, at least officially."

Dean couldn't believe his ears. Did Sam really say that? He was Lucifer's vessel? Somehow destiny, fate, or whatever the hell it is, has a really messed up sense of humor. Just great. It was bad enough that Lucifer was released and Dean being Michael's vessel. Now, his little brother is one for the other side. Fuck.

"Dean? Dean?"

"Ok, so you're Lucifer's meatsuit,"

"Yeah."

"Cas!"

Dean was expecting Castiel to just appear beside him. Instead, his friend had simply entered the kitchen, in his usual tanned trenchcoat that somehow looked right only on him. _No, no, don't think of him that way_!

"Cas! Did you know about this?" Dean demanded of the angel.

"Yes,"

"What the hell, Cas? Is there anything else you need to tell me?" Dean had thought Castiel would have told him everything after his resurrection, at least things that directly involved them. He wondered what other secrets Castiel was holding in. Before he could try to imagine them, Castiel stared at Dean, his blue eyes piercing his so clearly that Dean felt like Castiel could read his mind. Suddenly, Dean knew without a doubt that Castiel couldn't tell them. After helping Dean out, Castiel fought and lost against the Archangel. Following his defeat was his subsequent resurrection and then he saved his ass from Zachariah who was too busy giving them stomach cancer and taking away lungs. He sensed that Castiel, if he had time, would have told Dean sooner or later.

"Sorry, Castiel. Just, I can't trust anyone these days. Not with the freakin' Apocalypse hanging over our heads. Demons are gonna want to chase us down, now more than ever."

Sam noticed that Dean's explanation for his misunderstanding was quite long and drawn-out, as if he was truly trying to explain for himself. Dean had never done that for anyone, not even for him. He always noticed Dean's strange antics that were a result of his spending time with their friend, one of the few Angels who are trying to help them out instead of being holy dicks. He always appreciated Castiel, outwardly more so than Dean ever showed. But for some reason, Castiel was still staying with them. For some reason, he went against his orders from his superiors that were Archangels and he rebelled against Heaven for them. _No, not them. All for Dean. He did this for Dean._

"Everything will be ok, Dean," Castiel replied in his gruffy tone, " I have faith that everything will be ok." The statement reassured Dean of Castiel's faith, unwavering and soothing to Dean's ears.

"Is this sappy moment gonna be over?" A new voice interrupted the trio and all heads turned to the person responsible for it. It was the older hunter, still in his wheelchair. This time though a book laid across his lap and he gestured to it, his hands patting the brown cover it.

"Found something that could be of use to us." Bobby told them, wheeling himself out of the door. "And get me that bottle of whiskey outta the freeza, would ya? This sappy moment's makin' me sick."

All three turned to each other and then back to Bobby. Then, Castiel and Sam gave Dean a glance that clearly said 'you're so acting like a chick now'. Dean merely shrugged his shoulders and stalked off to the freezer, grabbing a bottle of Jim Beam. While he did so, Castiel and Sam strolled out of the kitchen and followed Bobby into their usual conference room that consisted of a large rectangle table, a secondhand red couch, and dusty bookshelves. Dean joined them and he saw four shotglasses on the table, right next to the book. He smirked at Bobby and opened the bottle up. He filled the glasses, even one belonging to Castiel, who gave the glass an inquisitive stare.

"Cas, you drink it." The elder Winchester said bluntly and Cas almost dropped the glass.

"I have seen this before, Dean." Castiel replied a little bit haughtily and he placed the glass back down on the table, careful of the liquid almost sloshing over the top. "It is just fascinating to see and feel it in person."

Dean sighed heavily and only one thought came into his mind. _It's going to be a long night._

**PART III**

"Wow, Bobby. That's like the best news I've heard so far," Dean said in a sarcastic tone once Bobby finished telling them what he had discovered. Castiel was mildly perturbed by the news and his face frowned, bringing in his eyebrows closer together and his lips pursed tightly, giving his whole face an almost angry look. He was not aware of these weapons. Of course, being barred from Heaven almost meant him being taken out of the information loop. Most of his brothers and sisters would have probably already known about this, which meant that whatever's afoot most likely had angelic and demonic involvement. Pondering on possible consequences of Zachariah and the angels getting their hands on these weapons could bear ill for Team Freewill and Castiel did not even want to think about what may occur if the Demons found them. He had given the piece of news the Nameless Angel gave them a few hours ago further thought and suddenly an idea occurred to him, one that did not make him happy either. If Dean was Michael's vessel and Sam is Lucifer's, then one of them is bound to have the Spear and the Shield. One of them was going to die. Castiel abhorred the possibility of Dean being taken by an Archangel and he would do anything to prevent it, even kill Dean himself as a last resort.

However, there was the issue of these Warriors mentioned in the Prophecy. Who were they? And why hadn't he heard of them before? Barachiel informed him of the mystery of Hidden Archives, stored in the secret vault of the Library in Heaven's Centre. She was an Archangel herself, although nowhere near as powerful as the original four: Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and the Fallen One, Lucifer. She had taken his place as soon as her brother fell but did not particularly enjoy her new position. Already overseeing three hundred garrisons of Angels, which were further divided up into 10 platoons, each one having 30 pairs who would work together for several centuries, the position of an Archangel brought her more responsibilities. The major one was over-looking any potential prophets and making sure they were walking on their destined paths. Any deviation required subtle intervention on her part through her subordinates. Another major one was in fact guarding Sam and Dean, but she already ripped out her grace by the time Dean and Sam were born. Thus, her job was naturally given to the person next in line of power, and that was Castiel.

The Angel had always admired Dean, who was also his first. However, the process of watching Dean grow was quite agonizing and intriguing at the same time. Interfering with the charge's destiny was strictly forbidden, however all roads lead to Rome, one way or another.

There was a time when Dean almost died. It wasn't from a hunt or even a fight. It was something silly, as silly as a child tripping over his own feet. Dean had done the same at the age of 13, when he was at a lake, skinny dipping. Samuel was still in elementary school and so Dean was by himself, alone in the woods that habited the region next to their house. Thursday was a pretty day, with temperatures at a moderate 70 degrees fahrenheit and clear skies. Dean thought that it was perfect day to go skinny dipping and he did so with relish. However, in his excitement, he tripped over his own feet and rolled awkwardly off a rocky ledge only to land in the water on his back. His body impacted with the water and the force of gravity was unforgiving; it sent him into the painless oblivion of unconsciousness. Little did he know that Castiel had slowed down his fall every so slightly so as to avoid Dean hitting his head and thus breaking his neck. When he next woke, he was laying on the side of the bank, with the sun as his only companion for that day. However, Castiel could never forget Dean looking hard in his direction, as if the boy could sense his presence.

Dean knew when Castiel was brooding over something and he could also tell when Castiel had a thought or an idea that he disliked. It was in the way his eyes would darken slightly and how his jaw would clench in a subtle way that could have been missed by any other person. Dean was not any other person though and he was very shrewd when it comes to things involving Castiel, even though it was mostly by instinct.

When Castiel had finished brooding over something, Dean offered him another drink of whiskey and his observations of Castiel disliking whatever idea was running through his head were confirmed with Castiel almost eagerly accepting the alcohol. The elder Winchester watched the Angel tip his head back to gulp the fiery beverage and he gave Castiel a quizzical look. Castiel returned the stare and Dean discerned that the Angel was looking at him in an odd but sad way because of a revelation. He wanted to ask him about his thoughts but before he could do so, Sam thrust a shotglass in his hand, demanding him to take another with him and Bobby at the same time. Castiel's glass was already filled and in his hand, the drink threatening to spill over the side again. Sighing, the hunter gave into his brother and he thrust his drink out to join with its counterparts.

"To the future," Sam said solemnly and he clinked his glass with the others.

"And now," Dean finished and he tipped his head back quickly, to gulp down the Jim Beam. It was harsh to go down the throat, but once it hit his stomach, a warm sensation spread throughout his body and his fingers tingled delightedly. He slammed his glass down and realized that Castiel looked brighter than ever. He blinked his eyes and Castiel's figure seemed to grow so bright it blurred into a now hazy background. That trip back to the present must have really fucked him over more than he expected. Travelling in time was supposed to affect the angel responsible for it, not humans. Apparently, for him, his body decided to shut down and the last thing he felt were a pair of arms that wrapped around him. As he gave himself to darkness, he could have sworn he heard a rustle of feathers and then the world blanked out.

"Dean!" Sam cried out, but Castiel already caught him in his arms. Clearly not affected by both the travel time and the strong alcohol, he was the most sober out of all four of them. The Angel had known that Dean couldn't take the travel time, not with all the stress and mental exhaustion that were results of recent events. It was just a matter of time before his body gave in. His deceptively fragile frame managed to lift Dean into his arms. Bobby and Sam cleared out some space on the couch; Castiel laid his charge down gingerly and he straightened up.

"Ok, what just happened there?" Sam's words were a bit slurred but his hands steadied themselves enough to cover Dean with a woolly blanket. Bobby wheeled himself over to Dean, crowding Castiel even further with Dean, not that the Angel minded. Bobby swiftly glanced over Dean's body and satisfied with what he found, he turned to Castiel, who beat him to the question by answering it.

"Dean and I were transported to the Temple of Castor and Pollux,"

"Geezus, there's nothing but ruins now," Bobby exclaimed.

"Well, when we arrived, someone was waiting for us and gave us this."

Castiel took Bobby's patient silence as his cue to take out the small sword that was neatly tucked into his waist.

"This is...this is that spear!"

"Yes, it is. The famed Spear of destiny."

"Well, that knocks one item of the list," Sam said with a sigh, glad that something was done with some angelic help. "Now, it's just the shield we have to look for."

"Before we do anything, though, let's put this in the demon bunker. Got help with this item and I don't want to lose it to demons wanting some piece of it or the whole of it."

**PART IV**

A door closed shut and the trio made sure that the wards were in place before going back to Dean, who was still fast asleep. They all sat around the table, murmuring in soft voices so as not to disturb the older hunter's rest. Although, at several points in the conversation, Castiel would stop and glance at the hunter, reassuring himself that the human was just sleeping and not in a coma or anything serious like that. The stolen glances weren't unnoticed for Bobby and Sam sometimes would gesture to each other behind Castiel's back. When Castiel returned to the conversation, they quickly composed themselves.

"Soooo, somehow this _shield_ is obtained by means of betrayal. But what?" Sam took out a book from the shelf.

"It appears that someone is withholding that piece of information," Castiel replied in gruff voice. "and I think I know why."

A scream shrieked outside their house and a large mass was seen flying away, its tail trailing behind it. Sam stalked outside, shooting his shotgun at him. The shots missed the creature and the younger hunter cursed at his misses. He holstered his gun to his side and went inside. Dean, amazingly enough, was wide awake but Sam could see that his eyes were still kind of out of focused.

"A demon and I fucking missed it!"

"It's ok, Sam," Castiel assuaged his friend, his invisible wings flapping once, then twice before hiding back into his vessel's back.

"Shit, what in the hell is going on? Cas?" Dean shouted out loudly for him, his hand clutching his head as a strong migraine ripped through his mind. _Note to self. Never mix alcohol with time or space travel. _He tried to call out to Castiel again, finding his absence strangely disturbing and a little bit frightening actually. Cool fingers pressed against his forehead and the headache was gone, to be replaced by blessed unconsciousness.

"Castiel, is Dean ok?" Sam asked, genuine concern colouring his tone as he watched the Angel lift Dean into his arms, his brother's head tucked underneath the stubbled chin. "Where are you taking him?"

"To bed, where he should be. We should all get some rest. We'll continue discussing this in the _actual_ demon bunker. Apparently, the wards and sigils aren't enough to keep demons away."

Before Sam could say something, the Angel actually disappeared, the books opening and papers flying.

"Well, that's something you don't see everyday," Bobby called out, a grin on his bearded face. The hunter wasn't talking about the angel doing his disappearing tricks. They both seen Castiel do that too many times; however, seeing him carry Dean as if he was a small child was a rarity.

_ "_Bobby, we are so not gonna let Dean live this down,"

"Same here."


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings**: Explicit details of torture, so this chappie can get kinda messy in a bloody sort of way, hence, one of the reasons why this fic is rated M for Mature, not for teens.

**A/N**: Sorry for the long reply. Just want to say thank you to those who put this story on their favs/alerts. You know who you are! I really appreciate it. :D Reviews are also highly appreciated as I am taking time to write this story (and other stories) when I really should be cleaning my house, and studying for the GRE. Otherwise, updates will be prolonged...at least until I take my GRE at the end of October...I'm rambling, so please enjoy the chapter and drop me a line!

"_Well, that's something you don't see everyday," Bobby called out, a grin on his bearded face. The hunter wasn't talking about the angel doing his disappearing tricks. They both seen Castiel do that too many times; however, seeing him carry Dean as if he was a small child was a rarity._

_ "Bobby, we are so not gonna let Dean live this down,"_

_ "Same here."_

**The Shield of Betrayal I: Matters of the Soul**

**PART I**

Dean knew he was in hell again. There was no mistaking those cries, the shrieks, the demonic growls that voiced out in the hazy, red background. His body felt stretched out and his eyes looked down only to see exposed ribs and his beating heart. A cruel laughter echoed above him and he regretted turning his head up.

"You ready to give in, Dean?" A hand caressed his heart and a knife then stabbed it cruelly. The man screamed and a leery grin was plastered on his torturer's face. The dark eyes that were as black as midnight merely twinkled at the man's suffering and he snapped his fingers, to have Dean's body magically healed. The ribs were no longer exposed and his heart was still beating behind the sternum that protected it.

"Let's start again, shall we?" Alastair suggested and he took a scalpel, to cut a straight line along the axis of the human body. Even that was excruciating and Dean couldn't imagine how he could have survived this torture for 30 years. One minute was just pure agony and there was no end to it, no end to this pain, the agony. Every time he was placed on the rack, Alastair would always ask him that same question and Dean would always say 'no' until one time he literally broke.

The Lord of Inquisition whispered to him in his ears, his knife slowly digging itself into Dean's eye while a hand speared into Dean's chest, fondling each organ and then squeezing each one.

"People who go to this hell deserve it. Murderers, rapists, drug dealers. They all deserve this. Think about it, Dean. Think about giving them what they deserve."

"No."

"Ok," Alastair then tore out Dean's eye, ripping out the optic nerve along with it. The hunter yelled out, unable to even clutch at his now empty socket. Rivulets of blood poured out of the fresh wound and Dean shuddered at the agonizing sensation.

"How about this, Dean," Alastair continued, waving the eyeball on the knife in the smoke. "Remember about that little girl? She was about 10 years old, yes, oh very young. She had such potential in her life, to become the person who would cure cancer in her generation. Very gullible and naïve, she believed the stranger was going to help her. Instead, he took her inside the white ice cream van and into his own basement, where he kept other little girls chained up. All very young too. And by the way, he's here too. His own wife's torturing him, can you imagine that?"

When the Lord of Inquisition received a wordless response, he took this as his cue to continue his anecdote, one of his favourites too.

"So, he chained them up and every night, he would come downstairs to feed them, both food and his own bodily fluids. Yeah, use your noggin, Dean. Imagine what that would be like. A stranger that could be your daddy touching you in places where he shouldn't. Try to put yourself in their position when they would cry out for help, for anybody to come and rescue them. You eventually came by the house itself, but only to exorcise the spirits of those children. If only you knew the real story behind them. How they would scream out in despair, in abandonment. They even called out to God at a time or two but He never helped them. Eventually, the stranger did stop coming, but that's because his wife killed him with his own bowie knife. She knew he was doing something and took her revenge. Ah, wrath, my favourite sin. She slashed and diced him into tiny pieces. Then, horrified at what she had done, she killed herself. Too bad she was catholic."

Dean truly wished he had no ears at that point but there was nothing to do except listen to his torturer's stories. Alastair never stopped with the stories and the details became more explicit with each wordless response. Abruptly, the stories halted and that persistent voice no longer whispered in his ears, in his head. Instead, he found himself free and he saw that same stranger in the rack, his insides glistening to any observer. The 45 year old was crying out to him and Dean happily cut into him, wanting, relishing in this murderer's pain. He _deserved_ this. He hurt those little girls, both mentally and physically. He fucking got what he wanted.

_Dean..._

No, how did that stranger know his name? Names were rarely used for they were the first characteristics to be forgotten. If a demon remembered their original name, it indicated that they weren't meant to be down there. The Word was powerful, even in spiritual realms.

_Hello, Dean_

The man remembered that voice, how deep and gruff it would be when it would speak. How it softens when his name left the person's lips. Suddenly, everything winked out of existence and he found himself sitting by the lake, in the same spot where Castiel had found him before being taken by his superiors to bible camp. In fact, that very same person was standing beside him, hands tucked inside the coat's pockets and staring out at the still lake.

_It was not your fault, Dean. _

Although the person beside him didn't move, Dean was sure that he was speaking directly to him. A breath escaped chapped lips and Dean's body almost hunched over at the relief of his nightmares.

"Cas, how'd you..."

"We don't have the power to control your dreams, but we can bring you comfort and this is what I did,"

This time, the person moved to face him and blue eyes that rivaled the sky on a clear, sunny day, gazed back at him. When Dean looked, actually looked at Castiel, it was as if a dam broke inside of him. All the things he had done, had endured in Hell came bursting out in and Dean started to cry. Tears trailed down his face and then his body shivered.

The Angel laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and he gently brought Dean closer to him, allowing the tears to dampen his coat. Arms wrapped themselves around the lithe form and Dean sobbed as if there was no one else in the world except him and Castiel. Once the body ceased to shiver and tremble, Dean stood back, wiping his tears and excess mucus on his sleeve.

"Geez, that was one chick flick moment," Dean managed to say.

"Yes," Castiel said, although Dean knew that his angel had no idea what he meant. Wait. Did he say _his_ angel? "Dean, it's time to wake up."

Without warning, the nice dream ended and Dean's eyes flew open to see Castiel peering down at him in concern. He bolted straight up in his bed, amazed that his hellish nightmare was only a nightmare after all, although he could never forget the real thing. Noticing that Castiel was quite close to him, Dean was about to say something in regards to personal space, but he kept his mouth shut for once, actually thinking about what to say rather than just blurting it out. The angel's closeness was rather welcoming, warm and comforting to the older Winchester. Dean always had trouble with people getting too close to him, both physically and relationship-wise. It was the reason why he committed those one-night stands and never pursued a long-term relationship. He considered once with a young lady named Lisa, but that was due to her son's abnormal likeness to him. He asked her a while ago if that was his son, but she adamantly denied it.

This was certainly not a time to settle down, but Dean couldn't see himself with Lisa and her son. In fact, the only people he could see in the future was just him, Sam, Bobby, and Castiel. Sam was his little brother, no matter how pain of an ass he could be; Bobby acted like a surrogate father, and Castiel, well Castiel was just..._Just what?_ _No one's a just what to Dean Winchester. Everyone has a label, is categorized in Dean's book._ When he regarded Castiel again, this time fully taking in his figure and personality, a revelation dawned on him. That if Castiel died tomorrow, Dean would do everything he could to bring him back. Perhaps, it would take little effort for him to even decide his course of action if such an event had come to pass. This revelation scared Dean and he had no idea on how to handle it. He wasn't gay. No, he's always been straight. But how could someone fall in love with an angel? A _male_ angel nonetheless. He recalled asking Castiel about what happened to Jimmy since his body was destroyed by Raphael. The angel simply replied that Jimmy's soul was set free at last and that this body fully belonged to Castiel. _His_ body. His very _male_ body, with all the parts that make males and females very disparate people.

His staring must have been duly noticed for Castiel's head tilted slightly and his blue eyes bore into his, silently questioning him.

"It's nothing, Cas," Dean all too quickly answered the angel's stare and he looked away, not wanting the angel to see his blushed face. A hand palmed his cheek and the force of it made him turn to Castiel.

"Lying is a sin, Dean," Castiel said that familiar phrase, the one expressed by a demon bitch in Mac's diner or whatever its name was. The way Castiel said it made it even more serious and Dean gulped, his throat seeming to close in on itself and his breath hitched.

"It's just, uhh, just..."

"Yes, Dean?"

Castiel scooted closer to Dean, their lips inches apart. Castiel smelled of the spring meadows, with lilacs and lavenders blooming underneath a bright yellow sun. His eyes were a little dark, tinged with an unexplainable emotion and before Dean realized it, they were kissing.

It wasn't as bad as he thought, kissing a guy. His lips were actually softer than he imagined and Dean drew back, astonished at this new discovery. In fact, this was _way_ better than kissing Anna. As if Castiel knew what he was thinking, the Angel scowled at him but then his facial expression fully changed to that of surprise when Dean kissed him back. Castiel was shocked at the passion, the force of a hidden love behind the kiss. Then again, since it was Dean who was kissing him, the Angel should not have been surprised.

Castiel cupped his charge's face with his hands, thrilled at the sudden pleasure that raced through his body. Could Angels feel this? Why was he feeling like this? Had he finally fallen?

At this thought, Castiel abruptly broke the kiss, not wanting to see Dean's flushed face, but heeding of Dean's whimper at his loss.

"Cas? Is something wrong?"

"Dean, we-we can't do this..."

"Cas, are you feeling something? Is that why you're scared?"

Castiel visibly flinched and his body twisted away, his fists clenched at his side. No, the mighty Castiel, the Angel who smited over a hundred thousand demons, wasn't scared. But he was feeling something and it must be dealt with, alone. Before Dean could reach out to him, Castiel flew, away from the situation, away from the feelings he felt for Dean.

**PART II**

Sam entered Dean's bedroom in time for Castiel to disappear and Dean was angry as hell. His older brother just glared at him and he lifted a finger, to stall Sam's impending question.

"Don't ask, Sammy. Personal issues, you know."

"Well, we kinda need Castiel for this. Angel stuff?"

"Yeah, I know. He," Dean's eyes suddenly found the cracked wall interesting, "needed to do something."

"Well, Bobby really needed to talk to him. He said he found the shield's location."

"Bullshit."

"Yeah. That's what I said."

**PART III**

3am is commonly known as the devil's hour, although the majority of the world's population cannot discern the origins of it. It is supposedly the peak time of power for those practicing witchcraft and dark magic. In fact, the period starting from 11pm to 3am is known as the witching hour while the devil's hour begins precisely at 3am. This is the time when the demon spy returned from his post at the Winchester's house to report to his superior, Samahia.

The female demon was busy extracting blood from her unfortunate victim, who was a 25-year old virgin. The bowl that collected the blood from the veins of the dying woman was placed on an altar filled with animal skulls and various assortments usually found at such a thing. She smelled in the fresh cloying scent of human blood, made even sweeter by the virginity of her victim and was not very happy at her subordinate's arrival.

"This better be good enough to interrupt my fare," she almost hissed at the demon spy, who collected his wings into his back, neatly folding them under the skin. The demon hunched over in deference to Samahia and replied that he had news of the weapons all the demons were looking for, on their Father's orders. Pleased with the updates, Samahia faced her spy and told him to stand up. He did so and when he fully straightened out his figure, he easily over towered his chief by more than a foot. However, by her sharp commands and his quick obedience easily relayed to anyone that she was clearly in charge of all the demons in her den, at least for now.

For a demon spy, he was comely in appearance, having now taken a human vessel before his arrival. Standing at 6 feet 2 inches, he had chiseled features that would make any woman swoon if they just took one look of him. His unnatural black eyes flashed eagerly at her willowy figure but he never dared thinking of taking her that way. No, no one takes the Mistress that way, ever. Those who tried were horribly disfigured, even for demons.

"So, they've hidden the Sword at their demon bunker. Hmm. That won't stop the likes of me," Samahia gave her third in command a wolfish grin that appeared odd compared to her elegant attire and innocent appearance. Her hand, washed in human blood, was licked clean and as a reward, she let her minion drink what remained on her other hand. "And, I already have something they really want."

Her starry gaze landed on a dull piece of metal that laid haphazardly on the altar. It was corroded beyond repair but if one were to look hard enough, runes could be seen just underneath the rustic layer. Ancient runes clearly identified the metal as holy or maybe unholy, depending on who could unlock it first.

"Mistress, we need the Spear so we can give these to our Father," the spy said softly, eager to be rewarded but not wanting to tread on his superior's fragile ego. She acknowledged his careful attempt and rewarded him with another smile. This was a good day for her 3IC.

"You know, that 2IC position is open, if you can survive the fight," she suggested sweetly, trying to stoke him into doing so. She was tired of her 2IC's laziness and impotence anyways. This man would definitely suit her needs better. Her suggestion was wholly accepted and she had one more thing to look forward to before the night ended. Yes, this night was a good night indeed. With Dean almost in her clutches and her having a new 2IC, she was suddenly impatient with the dilatory pace of the night.

"Boys, let's give the Winchesters what they want, shall we?"

Her minions murmured their consent, none daring to say otherwise, and she closed her eyes, incanting an ancient spell unheard of by any living being. Her words echoed in her acoustic den and the shield glowed in response. A crow cawed viciously outside, its yellow eyes unblinking even as a strange orange glow emitted from the house. Then sudden shrieks and hisses resonated in the air, finally ending with a triumphant growl that literally shook the tree and forced the crow to fly away, only to burst into tiny pieces.

**PART IV**

"Dean, where's that angel? We kinda needed him for this," Bobby almost growled at the hunter who had just walked into the older hunter's living room. Dean didn't stop to answer, instead he continued walking until he stopped before the freezer and grabbed another bottle of Jim Beam from the top drawer.

"Now, see here, that's my last bottle and you better not drink all of that!" The older hunter gifted Dean a scowl, to which Dean just responded with a laidback shrug and the opening of the bottle.

"I'm not going to, Bobby, but I could sure use a drink again,"

"After your last stunt? You just about keeled over a couple of hours ago."

"What?" Dean had no idea what the older hunter was talking and that pause allowed Sam to pull the bottle away from Dean and give his brother a bottle of water instead.

"To hydrate yourself. This time, you don't have Castiel carry you to bed." When Sam finished, he flashed a grin at Bobby and Dean just wanted to punch both his brother and surrogate father. No, there's no way that happened. Castiel wouldn't do that. That just ruined Dean's reputation as a manly sort of man, a man who required no coddling from anyone, most especially from an Angel of the Lord. His face felt heated and Dean realized that he was blushing. He attempted to stop the blushing but his brother slapped across the back, saying that they couldn't help it, making a joke out of it. Next thing he needed was for them to take a picture of it.

"You didn't…uhhh…you didn't take a picture, right?" He asked his younger brother, his voice almost coming out in a squeak.

"No, you iidjit," Bobby snapped back, wheeling himself away from the boys to go to the men's room. Before he closed the door though, he shouted in a light-hearted tone, "but we was thinking about it!"

After several minutes of cooling down and resisting to smack the heck out of his brother, Dean breathed deeply and exhaled slowly, letting all the frustration out, his body relaxing. Bobby was back and he was rummaging through this Lost book of his that he found a day ago or two. The older hunter had mentioned finding a 'fine print' note immediately following the excerpt on the weapons and this Holy Soldier, an unusual title for the Warrior of God. He was just about to fall asleep when there was a loud 'Eureka' and he jumped awake. Sam gave him an amused smile before turning his attention to Bobby, who was reading from the paragraph that was in juxtaposition to the image.

"And so shall the Spear and Shield be used, accordingly to the wishes of their wielder. When the Fallen One walks amongst man again, so shall the Warrior of God or be it known as the Holy Soldier. If wielded by Him who rebels against the Heavens once more, man shall return to dust as whence he came and all shall be undone unto Judgement Day. Wielded by the Holy Soldier, the sins of man shall once more be forgiven in the sacrifices of those who suffered much toil in God's name."

"Shit, no wonder the demons are eager to get their grubby hands on them." Sam cursed and he tapped his finger on his temple, trying to think of what the other riddles could mean. "Ok, so if Lucifer gets his hands on this, then there's nothing stopping him. Not even binding the Four Horsemen to their rings would stop him."

"There's absolutely no mention of these Four Horsemen," Bobby grumbled, his eyes still roving over the passages that could possibly have anything to do with the Apocalypse. True to his words, the hunter couldn't find anything regarding the Horsemen. Does that mean that this wasn't the true Apocalypse? Or was it simply written by an idiotic monk novice at his time?

Dean's phone shrilled loudly, interrupting the thoughts of everyone in the room, including those of its owner. He answered the phone and was very surprised to hear Castiel on the other line.

"Dean, I found the Shield."

"Where?"

"In Tulsa, Oklahoma. There's a cemetery."

"Thanks, Cas."

The phone sharply ended and Dean was immediately suspicious of the voice on the other side of the line. It sounded like Castiel but the Angel he knew wouldn't just hang up like just now. He shoved his phone in his pocket and told Sam the update. His younger brother frowned and he asked Dean if it was a trap.

"If it is, we'll be prepared for it. We have the right weapons, you have the right incantations, I have the ammo to back you up and we're good to go."

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah, Cas has never been wrong before."


	7. Chapter 7

**The Shield of Betrayal II: Deals with Demons**

PART I

"Ok, so maybe Cas was wrong," Dean whispered when the boys arrived at the local cemetery close to a college in Tulsa. He quietly closed the door of his dear Impala, prompting Sam to do the same. His warning was unnecessary, Dean found out, as Sam was already treading softly towards the entrance of the cemetery. It was late at night, around about 11pm. Naturally, no one was around and for those who were, had no honest intentions anyways.

They inspected the area of the cemetary and saw a strange looking house at the entrance. Cemetaries don't typically have houses and the boys suddenly became even more cautious. Red flags waved frantically in Sam's mind and he hoped that the same thing was happening to his older brother, who was treading lightly on the down-trodden path the boys were traveling on. He followed very closely to his brother, not out of fear of something happening to himself but to Dean. He just wanted to keep a closer eye on him. His brother had a poor knack of falling into easy traps and he wanted to be there to get him out if necessary.

However, before he could say something to Dean, his older brother Winchester suddenly vanished and he turned his gun around the hedges, the light shining on whatever the gun was pointing at. _Damn it, Dean!_

"Wow, Dean. I knew you were a high school drop, but I didn't know you were this stupid," a feminine voice called out coyly. Before he could bring up his shotgun loaded with rock salt, a large fist lashed at his temple, clocking his lights out.

Several minutes later, heavy footsteps approached the scene where Dean was taken and a name was cried out in the still night.

**PART II**

There was a small park in the town that Dean and Sam were in once. Their mission was to prevent the rising of Samhain, which failed but in Castiel's eyes, it didn't. Rather it made Dean shine even more in his eyes and he knew that Father was right in choosing this man to save the world. Despite his time in Hell, Dean retained his humanity as well as his memories, ones that the unfortunate man will never forget. Indelible as they are though, Dean still continued to do what is right, which is remarkable for a man who had no faith.

Following the mission, he had watched Dean sit on the bench at a nearby park. Dean was watching the children play on the swingset, the mothers chatting to each other while still keeping a sharp eye on their kids. He had an idea of what the older Winchester was thinking. Angels after all could read minds and implant [sublimable] messages, only if the source was already present. Once he saw an inkling of a smile on the man's handsome face and he felt Dean's soul rise in triumph at his decision, he decided to appear to Dean. Remarkably, the man sensed his arrival, even when he was looking in the opposite direction. Castiel always wondered at how sharp the man's senses were, or maybe how sensitive they were just to his presence. It occurred not long before the day was over, when he waited for the pair to show up in their motel room. Sam, without hesitating, drew a gun on him but only lowered it to Dean's earnest commands, the older one saying that he knew the man, even though he hadn't seen or heard him yet.

It was here, on this very bench, that Castiel had sat, sitting straight up, eyes staring into nothingness. To a casual observer, one would say that this man was waiting for a friend, with nothing else to do except day dream. The angel was doing anything but day-dreaming. His thoughts were running through his head, like an old video that was being rewinded and then played for further analysis.

He distinctly felt something for Dean. He wasn't sure what it was, but it bordered on his love and worship for his Father. No, the intensity of this _emotion_ was on the same level, but different, yes, very different from his absolute devotion to the Father of creation. Would this newfound emotion make him fall? He did notice that his powers were lessening to a degree, being barred from Heaven often resulted in a loss of power for that individual. But why was he punished? Did he not serve his Father in the way he felt was correct? He had absolute faith in his actions and now was certainly not the time to doubt himself.

"Doubt, that's a very human feeling you're experiencing, Castiel." A feminine voice called out to him, but Castiel wasn't afraid of the newcomer, even though she was technically an Archangel now, powerful enough to destroy him without thought or apparent remorse.

The newcomer was standing right next to him, her form silhouetted against the dark night and the bright full moon that shone down on her, blessing her with its light that illuminated her human vessel. Her red hair acted like a halo around her body and her brown eyes regarded Castiel gently, albeit there was some wariness in them as well.

"Anna? What are you doing here?"

"To give you advice, if you'll take it. Last time, you weren't ready."

Anna referred to the time when Dean was forced to torture Alastair and Castiel just stood behind a closed door, hearing the cries of both demon and the silent ones of Dean. She appeared before Castiel to warn him of the dangers, but he was so blind in his orders that he neglected her, rejecting her as one of the fallen angels. Now, he still regrets making that decision.

"Castiel, things are going to be hard for you and Dean. The road to the future is paved with dangers and with great rewards. When things are too hard for you to bear, just remember Dean and all that he stands for. Use that to anchor you to what you believe in."

"Anna, I just want to say...I'm sorry," Castiel softly murmured to his former superior. His hands were wringing themselves on his lap and Anna felt sorry for him. She hadn't meant to make him feel like crap before. Kissing Dean was an especially bad idea, but she wanted to make Castiel see what he was missing. Yes, even angels can get jealous. They weren't totally without feelings. How could they worship their Father with full devotion and adoration without those tangible emotions?

"It's ok, Cas," Anna said, deliberately saying Dean's favourite monicker for the confused angel. "Didn't I tell you at our last meeting that I forgive you? In fact, I've forgiven you a long time ago."

Castiel felt that Anna's words were true. She had forgiven him for everything, even for indirectly handing her in to Heaven's version of Military Police. His eyes grew wet and a hand wiped the wetness away. He was shocked at this human display of emotion and his head whipped at Anna in distress.

"They're tears, Castiel. It's a very human trait that you're picking up."

"Am I falling, Anna?" He bravely asked her that question, considering that she would give an honest answer.

She smiled at him, curious at his reaction to all of this. "You'll see," was her cryptic reply and Castiel did not particular like her ambiguous answer. He was just about to comment on that when pain lanced through his head. His eyes shut closed and one of his hands desperately clutched at his head, which felt like it was going to explode. He focused on the source of this strange agony and gasped at the images that raced through his head. Images of Dean being held by demons and someone speaking to him, or rather hissing at him in demanding tones. The older Winchester was writhing in agony and when his eyes were opened, Castiel could see them blackening and then switching back to their usual forest green hues. Someone was trying to possess what was rightfully his. The mark he left on Dean seared through both its owner and the holder and Castiel realized that by marking him, he incidentally left a barrier in Dean's head, a barrier that served as an impasse to any attempting to possess the elder Winchester. With both the handprint and the anti-possession tattoo, Dean was doubly resistant to the possession, but not to the pain of the attempts. The screams that left the man's lips tore at the Angel's heart and he wanted to reach out to him, to smite the demons and carry him far away from all of this. However, Castiel knew that the demons were on unholy ground and even though Castiel was indeed changing, he was still an angel and thus forbidden to enter such grounds.

"Go to his friends, Castiel. They can help you find a way to save him," Anna said before disappearing in a flutter of wings, leaving Castiel alone, sitting on the bench. He gazed at the heavens and made a silent prayer to his Father, a prayer that everything would be all right. As if to answer his request, a shooting star streaked across the sky, leaving a fiery trail behind. All of a sudden, Castiel felt lightened, as if a burden was lifted from his shoulders. Yes, he knew that his actions had been right and that his future lies in Dean. Without a second thought, he called Sam and the phone was picked up almost instantly.

"Cas?" The voice on the other line asked, only with a slight hitch to it. "Dean's missing and we're trying to find him right now."

"Don't worry, Sam. Where are you and Bobby?"

"I'm at the Motel 8, near Crown Hill Cemetery. Bobby's at his place. He can't really go anywhere anymore, not with him being on a set of wheels."

"Alright, I'll see you and then we'll go over to Bobby's."

"So, Dean was right. It was a trap." Sam whispered so quietly over the line, Castiel could barely hear him.

"Just stay where you are."

Before Sam could protest, Castiel hung up on the phone and focused on where a motel 8 around that vicinity. Once he imagined that place, his wings sprouted from his back and took him there. Sam was just getting off the phone when Castiel had appeared behind him. The younger brother was more flustered than usual and that worried Castiel.

"They've got Dean." Sam huffed out, running a large hand through his hair.

"I know."

"You do? Well, can't you get him?" Sam's face contorted in frustration, not liking his situation one bit.

"I wish I could, Sam. You telling me things I can't simply do won't help things." Castiel's voice became more gruffy in anger and Sam backed off, catching on to the angel's straightened posture and the steely eyes. He had seen Castiel pissed off before, but he was never on the receiving end. Now, after having experienced it, he wished that he was an insignificant table stand that stood next to the bed. Once the message was clear to the younger brother, the Angel calmed down and placed two fingers on the younger brother's forehead. This time, Sam didn't argue and the next he opened his eyes, he was with Bobby, who just stared at them while he was sitting on the toilet, with the door wide open and thus exposing him in an embarrassing way.

"D'you mind? I'm taking a shit here!" Bobby screamed out, slamming the door closed.

Castiel's head tilted to the side in genuine concern and Sam attempted to quieten his snicker, to which he did unsuccessfully.

Fifteen minutes later, they all convened around the table and were examining several texts on the aforementioned demons.

"Samahia," Castiel began, "is a high-level demon. She won't be easy to kill, Sam, especially with you not having any demon blood recently. And, I fear, she can't be killed either. Even Archangels are careful around her. When I saw her-"

"Wait, you actually saw her torturing Dean?" Sam interrupted and he was livid that the Angel didn't do anything to help.

"Yes. She is trying to have her subordinate possess Dean and thus attain all knowledge of what he is, who he is, and what he knows. The place is warded with sigils and even better, it's unholy ground to where I can't tread."

"Well, shit. What can we do then?" Sam asked and feelings of desperation and anger rose in him, causing his throat to tighten and his stomach churn uncomfortably.

"You can still enter those grounds, Sam. You have enough demon blood in you to kill her subordinates. Samahia won't kill you, not if she knows you're _the_ vessel for Lucifer. She wouldn't dare."

"That's what worries me," Sam voiced out his concern. He kept his other opinions to himself though and hoped that the Angel wouldn't catch unto his thoughts. Once Bobby and Castiel thought of a plan, one that was just ridiculously simple, the two hunters went to get ready while Castiel watched out for any more demonic surprises. Sam saw an opportunity to slip away, when Bobby had to go to the men's room who commented that it wouldn't do if nature called when they were trying to bust Dean out. He anticipated Castiel's query when the angel confronted him but he had already drawn a temporary sigil that sent Castiel away, not to Heaven (Sam knew what that would result in) but to another place in the world. He had stumbled upon this symbol while researching on angelic wards and such. With Castiel out of the way, he grabbed his bags and dumped them in the car. As the car turned on and peeled out of the graveled path, the moonlight just happened to strike a black flask and highlighted the label on it, which read 'emergency use only.'

PART III

Consciousness came to Dean very slowly and very painfully. For one, his head felt like it was cleaved in two, and he was chained to a large table, his hands and feet shackled to the corners, forcing his body to stretch out into an eagle-spread position. Dean had intimate knowledge of torture and its various tools. So he was not surprised to see knives with serrated edges, dentists' tools such as once used to scrape off plaque and other devices. However, being familiar with them did not bring him comfort. Rather, it frightened him for he truly thought he was in Hell again, with Alastair at his side, taunting him with failed dreams. He tried to think of ways to escape but a door's creak interrupted this process and his head twisted to take a look at his captor.

It turned out to be several captors as three people walked into the room where he was held. The one in front stood quite tall, easily over towering his peers, but he was willowy in figure, accented by the long slacks he wore as well as a nice gray dress-shirt which was buttoned only partway to reveal the beginning of a pale chest. His effeminate face bore high cheekbones and long eyelashes that would make any woman envious. A scar was drawn from the left end of his jawbone to his temple on the right side, giving him a devilish appearance.

A younger man stood off to the side of him, attired in only a worn pair of Levis and a black t-shirt, with the symbol of AC/DC decorating the front. He was younger than his taller counterpart, perhaps around about the age of 16, and was not as pretty looking either. His bedraggled hair made his already long, gaunt face even longer and more ghoulish in appearance. Tattoos riddled his body, even his face and there was a distinct smell hovering around his body, making Dean sick to his stomach.

His twin sister was on the other side of the tall figure and like him, she too was dressed plainly but covered with markings all over her body. Her dark trenchcoat and tall boots made her look gothic in appearance. Despite her rugged looks, she was very pretty compared to her twin brother and her heart-shaped face would deceive anyone into thinking she was an innocent girl. However, Dean knew from experience that children were scary and demonic children were just nightmarish in both attitude and appearances. Seeing that his chance of escape literally decreased by 60% with the presence of three demons, Dean decided on another strategy: to stall for as long as he can until the cavalry arrives. He noticed that the tall one must be the lieutenant for he was first in line in accosting him.

Knowing that Dean was trying to size him up, the lieutenant gave the prisoner a smile, one that revealed two rows of perfect, white teeth, and a wink. He accosted him at a leisurely pace and got right into his face, having no care about Dean's personal space.

"So, you must be the great Winchester. My Mistress was disappointed at how easily you were captured but she was quite taken with you. Too bad she has to mar your pretty body."

Dean turned his face to the side, disgusted by the fetid breath that belied the comely look of his captor. It smelled of rotting meat that was left out in the sun for far too long. A taloned claw gripped his jaw tightly and forced him to look at the owner.

"Yeah, well, it must be my good lucks that got me out of hell," Dean gibed back, his eyes flashing defiantly. His defiance earned him a painful backhand across the cheek and he barely managed to stifle a groan, not wanting his captors to know that it hurt.

"You're going to die, Winchester," the man sneered at him, stepping away from Dean. "And no one knows where you are, not even your own little brother, Sam."

"That's enough," another voice called and everyone regarded the newcomer. She had just entered the room, holding a small bowl in her tiny hands. She stepped to the side of the table and Dean knew what she was.

"Samahia," he whispered, cursing his situation even more. He did not expect to see her on Earth, especially when the last time he saw her, she was still chained in one of the lower levels of the Pit, spitting out venomous curses at her partner.

"Hello, Dean," the demon said in a light British tone. "Ready to play?" As she asked him this, she started cutting his skin, very lightly at first but as time grew by, so did the depth of the cuts. When thirty minutes had passed without any verbal indication of the prisoner being in pain, she finally relented, placing her tool on the little tray she had with her.

"You, my man, are a tough customer," She said to Dean, facing her prisoner who, to her, looked quite delicious in the way he was bound. "Alastair had a hard time breaking you in Hell. Of course, unlike your Daddy, you finally gave up, especially when he told you about what happened to those darling girls you had to vanquish in that house and what would happen to Sammy."

Her prisoner's panted breathes increased, so did his heart. The smell of fear wafted from Dean and it was lavishly taken by his captors, more so by Samahia. She loved this part. It wasn't the cutting, the screaming, and the deaths involved in torture. It was to see true fear on a prisoner's face, that contorted expression of pain and despair. Dean had always been her favourite. Hell, he was Alastair's favourite, Alastair's number one student. Her former master's invidious attentions on his 'student' then angered her for she used to be the number one person. Now, though, without a Master and with Dean not writhing in pain like she expected to, she was even angrier. Her claws cut into Dean's skin deeply, almost to the very bone of the limb she was holding down. Even then, Dean refused to cry out, his body taut in trying to keep his screams in.

"I really hated you, Dean, when you came to us. Now, I absolutely loathe you." Her vile comment was closely followed by agony lancing through his side when she shoved one of her talons through his kin and into his kidney. "Too bad you can't heal in this world. But then again, I am planning on killing you, just very slowly."

Pale lips twisted into a malicious sneer at Dean's barely contained moans and his pained groans were cacophonous to her ears. Her subordinates enjoyed the show their leader was performing, but she didn't care whether they enjoyed or not. Most important of all, she was having fun.

"I know where the sword is," she purred softly in Dean's left ear, a tongue slithering out to lick the shell. A shudder of revulsion passed through her prisoner and Samahia smiled. Dean did have a really nice body for a male. Perhaps she could keep him as a pet until she finds another one. Mortals sadly are too fragile for her to keep pets for her long years but Dean should be provide her with enough amusement to last her a while. But, first things first.

"Since you won't willingly tell me exactly where the Sword is, I will make you show us." With that said, her fingers snapped and it was the taller one who came forward, his eagerness for such a task easily seen in his flashing eyes and even paler tone of the face. Dean's head was suddenly grabbed and then held in a viselike grip. His eyes shut closed, not wanting to see the infinite darkness of his captor's eyes. A chuckle was all he heard before his world burned and his body felt like it was being torn to shreds. A feeling so fearfully akin to what he had experienced at the hands of the hellhounds came rushing back to him and he tried all he could to escape from it. He had known this feeling of possession and the Winchester fought against it, both physically and mentally.

Mental walls were almost instantly erected, in a vain attempt to stop the onslaught of his assailant, who just smashed through them. A clawed hand reached out to him and the last thought he had was that if he could see Castiel just one more time, he would finally confess this love for him.

Samahia's 2IC could only laugh at his victim's poor mental defenses as he hurled his way through the whirlpools of the man's recent memories and smashing a pathway into the doors that protected the mortal's precious secrets and his soul. His roar of triumph was cut shortly though when another figure appeared in front of him and maledictions were directed at his opponent. He stumbled back when the figure's light grew so bright, it burned hotly in his presence and Arieal let out a hoarse scream.

He wrenched his burned hands from Dean and moaned at his now blackened hands. His mistress hissed at him in disappoint and before he could excuse himself for his failure, she placed her hand forward and then he was nothing.

"Worthless. Alright, anyone else care to try?" She asked innocently, apparently not bothered that she had eliminated her closest subordinate. Her minions feared of saying either yes or no. The young lady sighed in exasperation at the incompetence of her followers. If there's something you want done, you have to do it yourself. Her body twisted and she clutched at Dean's head, not caring that the man had lost consciousness.

"I will get that Sword, Dean," she hissed and her eyes closed shut. "Then, I will kill you."

She didn't use brute strength to initiate the possession. Rather, she planted herself in subtle ways in Dean's memories, hoping to convince the mortal that she was there to help him and that the only way to deal with his problems right now was to let her take him into her heart. When she finally arrived at that same door her previous subordinate arrived, she found the figure waiting for her.

"So, you must be the one who thwarted my former subordinate."

"Hello, Samahia."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name. Oh wait, yes, you must be that angel Dean is always thinking of. Yes, somehow I can't weasel my way into any memory regarding you. Hmmm. Could it be that you love him?"

"I love all of my father's creations."

"I really wish I can kill your real person, but this ought to do I guess."

She rushed at the figure but was blindsided by a vicious backhand and Castiel took the hand closest to him, only to throw her body over his shoulder, temporarily stunning her. This little shit actually touched her! Furious at how easily the Angel handled her, she lifted her right leg and kicked the angel in the head. Castiel stumbled back and Samahia used her enemy's momentum by hurling herself at him. They both landed on a leveled area in Dean's consciousness and rolled around, each trying to force the other into submission. Finally, Samahia struggled her way on top of the now exhausted angel and she wrapped her hands around his neck. He gasped and his hands clawed at her pathetically. His actions only increased the pressure around his neck and she was very enthusiastic about seeing the life disappear out of her enemy's eyes. Her victory was denied though when screams and shouts echoed around her, informing Samahia that someone had intruded on her space. She tightened her hold around the Angel's neck, wanting to break it before she had to turn her attention to this insolent intruder. Fortunately for Castiel, her concentration was interrupted and then her astral projection disappeared entirely from Dean's mind. Knowing that she could return to finish the job, the Angel hurriedly got to his feet and his eyes closed, focusing on what memories she may have corrupted.

He observed that the majority of those which were corrupted excluded him and the Angel was not surprised at the reasoning behind it. His charge must have perceived those memories of him particularly special and he was truly honoured at how close Dean kept them to himself, even subconsciously. When his eyes opened, he saw Dean standing before him, tired and ragged-looking. His green t-shirt was untucked and his jeans were torn. Hair stuck out in odd places and his eyes, although a little bit worn around the edges, were unusually alert.

"Thanks, Cas."

"Dean," the Angel breathed softly and Dean reached out to him, cupping his jaw with a gentle hand. Green eyes gazed steadily at their blue counterparts and suddenly, Castiel knew in his heart, his soul, that the worst thing he could do to Dean was to leave him, to abandon him to the mechanism of fate and that Dean loved him. No words were said, none had to be but Dean's eyes expressed everything the charge wanted to say but couldn't.

"Sleep, Dean. I will watch over you," Castiel commanded and Dean's form faded from his view, indicating that it was safe enough for Dean to withdraw into the realm of Morpheus. The soft white glow which surrounded Dean's astral form lingered for mere moments before also disappearing, plunging the Angel into perpetual darkness.

"Sam Winchester, I had hoped you would come," Samahia purred and like Lilith, she too was seduced by the knowledge of what Sam could become. "But I hadn't hoped you would do something stupid."

With that, she flung her hand out in an attempt to push away Sam and the younger Winchester didn't even flinch. The high-level demon theorized that there was a possibility someone would be strong enough to withstand her power and the man still standing before her, obviously not affected by her telekinesis, helped her come to a conclusion that these types of people were either highly fortunate or unfortunate.

_ "_I always wondered if there was someone who can stand up to me. Well, someone, besides another demon." She purred in a seductive tone, hoping to lure the younger Winchester in her grasp.

"I'm here to make a deal, demon," said Sam, trying to sound indomitable in his wish. "I'll say 'yes' only if Dean is free."

"A deal, huh? Your body for Dean's freedom? How lovely. Father would be so proud of me." Sam shivered at the implied consequences of his action, but nevertheless stood his ground. "Well, you're going to have do more than just kiss me, Sam. Just like my dear comrade, Lilith."

Her lips was merely inches away and Sam wished that she would just get this over. He could feel her getting closer each second and just when he could almost feel her lips cover his, another voice came in.

"Stop right there, Samahia or Sam will cease to exist."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Wow, it feels like years since I posted the last chapter. Oh wait, only six months or so. Sorry guys for the long wait. Lots of things happened like computer crashed, graduate school, the flu etc. Here's the new chapter. I hope it's not disappointing to read. Feedback would be great, as always.

Chapter 8: The Shield of Betrayal – Demons lie, don't they?

Samahia was a very old demon, her longevity spanning since the dawn of man. The only other demons older than her were Lucifer and Lilith. She had seen many things in those millennia of observing humanity and relishing in their suffering. She had seen Angels die in their service to a now absent Father, the one so cowardly as to not even appear when his subjects are praying to him. At least her Father undertook actions when someone had asked him a favour. However, the one thing she never saw coming was a disheveled appearance of a lowly soldier. She had recognized the stranger from her fight in her prey's mind and thought that today was definitely going to end well. She had both Dean and Sam in her clutches, the two brothers wanted by important people on both sides of the war. The shield, small and seemingly unimportant with its blemishes and dents renting the surface, was in her possession. The sword, yes, she knew where the sword is. The challenge is getting _to_ the sword for the Winchesters home was strongly warded against both demons and angels alike.

"Castiel," Samahia purred, still holding unto Sam's face with her taloned hands. Her dark, red lips curved into a sensual smile and she stroked Sam's cheek the way a lover would before getting physical. The young man flinched underneath her affectionate stroke but made no move in prying himself out of her iron clutches. "Perhaps you can join us, yes? Threesomes were always my favourite."

"Sam will cease if you seal the deal."

"Oh, and how would he do that? By exploding himself into tiny pieces? Lucifer will only piece him back together. I hear the process is quite painful though."

"No, bitch," Sam cursed at her and Samahia found herself being knocked back against the wall. "By this!"

He tore his shirt off and Samahia's eyes widened only fractionally when they gazed at the sigil etched deeply into his chest. It was an Enochian sigil that literally tore time and space apart, leaving no residue of the person. However, it needed something else and Samahia couldn't help but laugh at their desperate attempt in saving Dean.

"Oh, how very clever of you, Sammy," she laughed, gracefully rising to her feet again. She brushed off some wayward dust that clung to her hair and clothes. "But, you forgot something."

The man barely trembled at her nonchalance in being thrown back into a wall. _No, I read this in the books. _

"You see, Sammy. You missed something and really should have paid more attention in calligraphy classes. This symbol is wrong,"

A finger lightly dragged across his stomach and Sam felt revolted by her touching him. Before he could do anything, a sharp pain pierced his stomach and his hands flew to protect him, only to see that his organs were glistening underneath the pale moonlight. _How?_ He tried to say something but blood filled his mouth, suffocating him. His brother's yells blocked out everything else, except for Samahia's throaty laughs. Her yellow eyes haunted his vision, even with his eyes closed. _No, this can't be happening. Even with the demon blood I drank!_

Castiel stepped forward but was bound in one place. She made a tsking sound when he was forced unto a kneeling posture by her subordinate, her new SIC. Yes, her Father would be so proud of her when she retrieves the Sword.

It was at this moment that Dean's eyes fluttered open and the hunter wished that he had stayed unconscious, safe in his mental fortress with the astral version of Castiel. There were Castiel and Sam, two people he certainly did not want to see in this sinful coven. Besides, this was unholy ground. How did Castiel manage to get here?

Apparently, Samahia was thinking of the exact same thing and she skipped forward, only to stop before the angel, who was hunched over, apparently in pain. Her pale hand took his chin and she forced him to look at her.

"Hmmm. An angel crossing even the most unholiest place on earth. How did this come to be?"

She leaned forward, much to Castiel's revulsion, and sniffed him, taking in the familiar scent of Angels. That clean scent of soap and lavender. However, there was something else hidden underneath. The scent of something _human_. "I see. Your Grace is disappearing. Poor angel."

Her hand snaked over his shoulder, to play with the invisible wing. Castiel unintentionally let out a pained moan and then it turned into a loud shriek when she dug her talons deeply into the wing. His shriek was closely echoed by that of Dean's, her prisoner jerking against his bonds. Thick blood ran down her fingers and she brought it to her face, making a point to lick it in front of Castiel.

"Oh, it appears that this little angel won't be coming back to his brothers and sisters."

"You fucking bitch!" Dean shouted hoarsely at her, and he tried to get out of his bonds, to protect what was his.

"Well, I am tempted at the offer, Dean," Samahia purred, rising to her feet gracefully like a tiger awaiting to catch its prey. "Sadly, you disgust me. With your angst and pointless whining."

She quickly scratched Castiel on the cheek, leaving three bloody streaks in its wake. The Angel moaned and he would have fallen to the side had the SIC demon not been holding him up. She truly was disappointed at the trio. She had been hoping for some great fight with the legendary Winchester Warriors, destined to end the world with their hands. The Demon let out a heavy sigh and she figured that it was time to play with Sam. She wanted to test the bonds of friendship with her main victim and what better way to do that than make him choose the person she should spare.

"Now, Sammy, here. You wanted to cease to exist, am I correct,"

Sammy, to his credit, spat in her face, the saliva sliding off her pale cheeks in unpleasant globs. He received a fierce backhand in return and he coughed out blood, feeling a loose tooth as well as a headache from the blow.

"That wasn't very nice, now was it?"

The younger Winchester couldn't answer her verbally, too busy coughing out his own blood and his tooth that had come loose. He still had one thing up his sleeve and hoped that Bobby wasn't taking his time doing it.

"Now, where was I? Ah yes,"

The willowy figure of the high-level demon sauntered over to Dean's side.

"I've always relished in the screams of an angel being tortured. There's that sound they make that is just..." the demon paused, her eyes closing in memory of her past victims when she was free to roam the earth back in the old days. "so orgasmic. So, here's the million dollar question, honey."

She none too gently cupped Dean's face, making him look at the two disheveled figures kneeling helplessly before the two.

"Who would you rather save? Your demonic little brother or this poor excuse for an Angel?"

She heard a small whine in the back of her victim's throat and Dean's eyes feverishly looked from Castiel to Sammy, who was too busy coughing up his own blood to notice his brother's plight. She noticed that Dean's eyes lingered a little too long on the Angel in the trenchcoat and her eyes darted to the man holding Castiel prisoner in his grasp. The 2IC holding Castiel down took it as his cue to start tearing into the angel's left wing. There was a horrible ripping sound and a choked gasp that turned into a full blown shriek that shook Dean to the core.

"You know, Dean," she purred, her hand fondling his bloody jaw. "I was lying about the whole 'stuck' on earth thing. I just wanted to see who you would choose to spend the rest of your life with. Apparently, your brother just got upped by a graceless angel."

With that said, she made a motion with her hand and her 2IC gave Dean a sickening smile. The elder Winchester struggled against his bonds and he prayed, he prayed silently to an absent Father for the strength to save Castiel at least, the Angel who had remained faithful to Him, despite the efforts of Zachariah and his cohorts. Dean didn't care about himself. He knew he was damned anyway. But Castiel. Castiel didn't deserve this. He watched as the 2IC started to rip the second wing off and Castiel's howls of agony pierced his consciousness. Suddenly, everything around him whitened and he heard screams, screams of anger, rage, and pain.

-o0o-

Now, Samahia had seen many things over the eons of her existence. She had seen whole armies of humans massacred in one night, the demons that walked the earth in human forms. She had even seen the holy light of Angels, although it burned whatever human she was possessing at the time. However, she had never seen this before. The awfully bright light seemed to hum with power and Dean was no longer held back in his bonds. In fact, there was no Dean to be held back. What stood in his place was a giant of a man, clad in the traditional garb of a Roman officer. His golden armour glinted unnaturally in a place without light and the face was partially hidden away in the man's helmet. The red plume that adorned his head moved slightly, as if there was a breeze blowing in her cold den. She was surprised that she could still see his large form, thinking that again she would have to occupy another vessel to do her Father's bidding. When nothing happened to her form or even her eyes, her confidence came back. Nothing could kill her, not even poor Sammy and their helpless Angel.

Castiel's eyes were previously shut tight as a response to the agony that accompanied his wings being torn off. They snapped open when he felt a familiar sensation tugging at his heart. It felt as if one of the Archangels was right there with them. However, there was an unfamiliar figure standing before them, or rather between him and Samahia, as if the stranger was protecting him. His back tingled, like he had pins and needles or whatever the human expression was digging inside him. His invisible wings, once lying uselessly, brokenly on the ground, were made whole again but his grace seemed to be bound in his heart, never to felt throughout his whole being as it had been for several millennia. He tried to stifle a noise at the loss but apparently he was unsuccessful as the stranger seemed to turn to him, uncaring that Samahia was still there, still capable of doing much harm to all three of them. He let out a gasp when the stranger peered at him and Castiel saw the mossy green eyes of his beloved charge.

"…Dean?…"

The stranger cocked his head and he laid a hand on Castiel's shoulder. What emotions that could not be seen were felt through the contact. All the pain, the suffering, and something intangible. It was akin to his love and devotion to his holy Father, but this, this was something more. He tried to say something to the stranger but couldn't. The man's nodded and Castiel found himself freed from the grasp of the demon. When he dared to turn his head, he saw nothing there, not even the blackened remains of a human body. Only Samahia was strong enough to stand before the stranger's might. The stranger apparently chose this moment to face Samahia, his sword and targe poised defensively in front of him.

"Samahia, it is time for you to go back," a deep voice echoed and Castiel felt it reverberate right through his body. There was a shriek of laughter in response and Samahia placed her hands on her hips. She seemed confident to act so nonchalantly in front of a man whose light had seared through all of her minions.

"You think you can send me back? Not even Sammy with a whole year's worth of demon blood could hope to do that!"

There was no reply to that, at least no verbal reply. Both Sammy and Castiel were shocked to see the stranger move so fast and they didn't even see the sword flashing right through her core. She gurgled, black blood frothing from her mouth. Her hands clutched desperately at the stranger's breastplate but he stepped back, forcefully taking his sword with him. There was an unholy scream and blue light enveloped them.

When Castiel opened his eyes again, he found himself sitting haphazardly in a very familiar room, one with books littered all over the place and the smell of alcohol pervaded his senses. Sammy was lying next to him, seemingly passed out from the blood that was still seeping out unto the floor. There was movement nearby and he flinched when someone shouted at him, followed by hands that lifted his face up.

"Bobby?"

"Damn boy, what in the hell happened here?"

"I…I don't know," came Castiel's weak reply. Where was Dean?

"Sonuvabitch!" Bobby cursed and he wheeled himself to Sam's supine body. "Figures, soon as I get stuck in a wheelchair, you lot have to come here being injured and shit."

"Dean? Where is Dean?" Castiel asked.

"He's here, jist passed out like Sam is," was Bobby's terse reply and Castiel could see the prone figure of his charge lying right next to him, bloodied and bruised. It was as if he wasn't the mysterious stranger that had appeared and saved them.

"Castiel, mind telling me what happened out there?"

That was the problem, Castiel thought. He truly didn't know what happened. More importantly, he didn't know why.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Shield of Betrayal – Unwanted Advice

Castiel tried to focus on transporting himself to Heaven's Door, an entrance only the Garrison soldiers could use in times of trouble. Try as he might though, he couldn't even start flying there, despite the presence of his wings. His wings moved in annoyance and he focused again on leaving Bobby's place.

The sounds of wings flapping alerted him to the presence of another Angel and he grimaced at the thought of having to fight an Archangel so soon after their close brush with Samahia. He turned and was shocked to see Anna standing there, an amused grin on her mousey face.

"I see the rumours were true then," she smirked and Castiel groaned at how bad news spread like wildfire in the Garrisons.

"What do you want, Barachiel?" Castiel's tone was unintentionally harsher than he expected, but she had bad timing in seeing his struggles. Barachiel shrugged off her former subordinate's question and she walked around the living room, taking in the unkempt state of the place with amusement.

"When I was living with my parents, my mother always told me to clean my room," she turned to face Castiel. "If she were still alive and here, this room would have been the death of her, not some freak accident."

Her finger brushed off some dust that clung to one of the books stored on a broken bookshelf. She had never seen anything this messy before and if she were Anna again, she would literally have thrown up at the sight of broken beer bottles everywhere, the stench of alcohol stinging her nostrils. Yet she did not come to berate Castiel on his choice of having messy friends. She had grave news to tell him and most of it Castiel already knew. It was just going to be hard hearing it from a former superior officer. She let out a heavy sigh and proceeded in doing what she set out to do.

"Michael is Father's right hand," Barachiel started to say, "and if he is in the battle, then nothing will stop the events from unfolding. Sam and Dean will be on the opposite ends of the battlefield. Dean taken in as a _meatsuit_ by Michael. You know what happens when an Archangel takes a vessel. Michael is a lot stronger than Raphael and Dean will be lost forever."

"You think I don't know that?"

Frustration welled up inside Castiel and he began to worry about Dean. He can't let Michael take him! Even if it is to win the war, Dean must not be taken!

"And he won't be if you do as I say," Barachiel interrupted his thoughts rather coldly and Castiel glared at the Angel, something he would never have done before this whole Winchester fiasco started. Barachiel grew concerned at how quickly Castiel was becoming human and she mourned his fall. Yet, at the same time, she herself knew that there was something more to just following orders and she felt it in her heart that Castiel was right in taking Dean's side.

"Archangels can't take a vessel that has been taken by another angel."

"I am already possessing a vessel," Castiel pointed out.

"That's not what I meant,"

Castiel could be so dense sometimes and she had to deal with him for four millennia. She sighed and said it slowly,

"You have to become one with him,"

"No. No, I can't do that to him. He doesn't even…No." Castiel shook his head, wanting to deny what Barachiel was suggesting. In all the years of watching over his charge, Castiel had never seen Dean couple with another man. It had always been females. Always.

"If you don't do this, you _will_ lose him."

"There has to be another way."

"Just like there's another way of finding Father? No, Castiel, there is no other way."

She loved her brother, but again, he can be so single-minded, so focused on one thing that it blocks all other possibilities. Perhaps that _is_ why Father specifically chose him to watch over Dean. She had never experienced the wonders of her Father but she knew that He was there, watching over all of his children. When she was out on a reconnaissance mission, news of Castiel's talk with Father came to her on fast wings and in a flutter of gossip. From the jumble of angelic songs, she could make out that Castiel was personally told by Father to look out for Dean. But why had He talked to him? He was just a foot soldier, an excellent one but a common soldier nonetheless. She wasn't jealous. Angels couldn't feel anything except the supposed devotion to their Father and a righteous ire to their demonic brethren. However, she felt something stir in the depths of her grace and after she fell, she had to come realize that the feeling at the time was indeed jealousy. Now though, she almost felt sorry for her brother.

A low moan was uttered and the two beings that glared at each other suddenly looked into the direction of the moan. Barachiel saw her brother race to the elder Winchester's side and she could see how tender he was to him. The way he rubbed his thumb across Dean's cheeks and how he would look longingly at him. She approached the two but was stopped by Castiel's stern glare.

"Look at him, Castiel," Barachiel attempted to sound authoritative, "he may be weak, he may be human, but at least he's Dean. If Michael gets a hold of him, you will still see Dean, but you won't be able to feel him, to interact with him just like you are now. Would that be worth it? Would this be worth to win the war? Think about it, Castiel. When you make a decision, you should talk to Gabriel,"

Castiel's head whipped around at the mention of the Archangel. Gabriel was notorious for doing whatever Father wanted to do, but in his own way. He was also well-known for being so antisocial that even the other Archangels have started to avoid him. There was a saying in the Garrison that talking to Gabriel was akin to being tortured by Alistair, a high-level demon with a penchant for torture.

"Why should Gabriel care about the going ons of man? He never expressed such interest before," Castiel asked his sister and he was a little unsettled to see some confusion cloud over her pale features. Barachiel rarely looked confused.

"You're wrong, Castiel," she replied in a sad tone, "Gabriel had always been interested in humanity, although not in a healthy way."

Castiel felt his human charge shift underneath his hand and he peered down at Dean, to see if he was waking up. Dean's eyes fluttered open and Castiel saw the jaw being clenched. It appeared as if Dean was in pain. He sorely wished that he could take his pain away, like he used to before. He wasn't allowed to heal without Father's permission but there were no rules against comforting a human charge.

Anna stepped closer to the bed, now ignoring Castiel's warning glance. She placed a hand on the man's chest and Castiel saw the wounds close up, the bruises disappearing into the skin, leaving behind unblemished skin.

"He will sleep into the night without nightmares. I have to go now, brother," Anna said and Castiel was shocked that he could see her thousand wings expanding outside of her vessel. "Gabriel will come to you if you call for him. You have always been his favourite."

_What is that supposed to mean?_ Castel had never met Gabriel first of all and he was the Archangel's favourite? Before he could ask Anna what she meant by her remark, she disappeared in a flutter of wings. Now he knew how Dean felt whenever he pulled off that move. Speaking of Dean, he would have to find a way to 'persuade' Dean into doing a certain thing. The question is not how though, but would Dean hate him for it, especially if the hunter didn't like him in that odd human way.


End file.
